Community Property
by Mizvoy
Summary: Complete. In every divorce, even in the 24th century, the couple divides their community property. What happens when that property is the friendship of an individual? In their divorce, can Chakotay and Seven find a way to share Kathryn Janeway without having to cut her in two? Or will one of them have to give up her friendship forever? From VAMB's 2012 Secret Santa Exchange
1. Community Property

Disclaimer: CBS owns Star Trek _Voyager_. I'm just putting them to good use. No infringement intended.

A/N: This story was part of VAMB's 2012 Secret Santa exchange, written for Cheshire who wanted a story where Janeway is rescued. I had most of this story already drafted (I can't write THIS much in a month) and decided to finish it for her.

Summary: In every divorce, even one in the 24th century, the couple must divide their community property (possessions held jointly by husband and wife). What happens when that property is the friendship of a single individual? In their divorce, can Chakotay and Seven find a way to share Kathryn Janeway without having to cut her in two? Or will one of them have to give up her friendship forever?

**Community Property **

By mizvoy

"There are three things to remember about being a starship captain: keep your shirt tucked in, go down with the ship, . . . and never abandon a member of your crew." Captain Kathryn Janeway, Dark Frontier Part 2

Part 1.1 Community Property

**December 16, 2378 ****One year after **_**Voyager**_**'s return**

**Kathryn Janeway's Quarters, San Francisco**

"This damned divorce has been tougher than the marriage was," Kathryn Janeway complained as she served Tuvok his tea and then sat down on a sofa across from him to sip her coffee. "And I didn't think anything could be worse than the marriage."

"It's never easy when one is caught between two people who are going through emotional turmoil," the Vulcan agreed with his usual equanimity. "You understand the difficulties and disappointment both are facing, and yet there is nothing that you can do to resolve the conflict."

"Even worse, instead of helping to diffuse the animosity, I feel like I've made it worse." She placed the steaming mug on the coffee table and then leaned back to study the coral and blue clouds that were visible through the windows of her high-rise apartment. "I care deeply for both Seven and Chakotay, and I want to help, but I find myself trying to be the peacemaker in a war in which neither side wants peace. The process is painful, Tuvok, and it isn't getting better with time."

"If anything, it will get worse. You may be forced to choose between them, to 'take sides,' before all is said and done." His expression contained a hint of sadness about her dilemma. "There's a well-known adage that says it best: friends are part of the community property that is divided between the spouses in every divorce."

"What a depressing thought, and yet I think you might be right. I'm being pulled in two directions at once, and I'm struggling to remain neutral."

"Is it possible to remain neutral?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that," she chuckled, shaking her head. "I can't help but blame the way they rushed into this marriage. I thought at the time that Chakotay was being too impulsive, and I was certain that Seven had no idea about the emotional demands that marriage would make upon her. It isn't easy for her to stop and think about her husband's wishes and needs when she makes a decision—so much of that seems 'irrelevant' to her. When I told her that she has to stop and talk to him before making choices, she always answered that he would 'adapt.'"

"And you talked to them about this in advance?"

"Oh, yes, I'm afraid I did. I told her that committing to another person brings about a loss of independence—as well as the right of the other party to impose their will upon you." She rolled her eyes. "Let's just say that they were not receptive to my advice and leave it at that."

Tuvok arched a brow and replied, "And now? Are they receptive to your advice now?"

"Not really. Chakotay accuses me of taking Seven's side, probably because she came straight to me when she moved out of their apartment. He thinks that I'm helping her avoid him and has come right out and accused me of wanting them to break up."

"Why would he think that you want them to divorce?"

"I've tried to imagine a reason." She sighed and absently rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "Maybe because I warned them that they were getting married too soon, and their divorce proves me right."

The Vulcan frowned. "Such a conclusion is illogical. You warned them because you wanted their marriage to succeed, and therefore you would be unhappy that it fails."

"Logic has nothing to do with something as emotional as this. All Chakotay hears me saying is 'I told you so.' And Seven. She's upset if I mention Chakotay's name in her presence, much less suggest that she talk things out with him. She thinks I'm trying to force her to stay married to him. Every time she finds out that I've talked to Chakotay, even briefly during an official meeting or a chance encounter at Starfleet Headquarters, she goes on the offensive to 'keep me' from trying to force her to reconcile with him against her will."

A shadow of amusement shone in the Vulcan's eyes. "One thinks you want them to break up and the other thinks that you want them to stay together."

Janeway laughed. "Isn't it ridiculous?"

"Their discomfort will lessen in time."

"I should live so long." She absently picked up the coffee mug and cradled it in her hands. "I'm not sure whether Seven is clueless about life in the Federation or whether she simply enjoys using me as a buffer for the more demanding elements of life. She's asked for my advice about every little problem that has confronted her these last few weeks, and I'm wondering whether she will ever learn how to get along on her own. She's so insecure that I have to spend most of my free time with her—which means that I have little or no time to spend with Chakotay."

"Perhaps, once she's adjusted to life in the Alpha Quadrant, you will be able to resume your normal friendship with the commander."

"Perhaps. But that's assuming he's still willing to be my friend." She frowned, slid the empty mug onto the table, and stretched her arms along the back of the sofa. "The truth is that I need Chakotay's calm presence in my life as much as Seven needs my friendship in hers. I rely on his advice as much as I rely on your level head and unflappable logic. You were really the ideal pair in the Delta Quadrant, bringing me equal measures of logic and emotional balance."

"I am gratified to hear you say that."

"I'd hoped that we could continue to work together once we were home."

"Indeed." He paused and gave her a close look. "I must say that this desire to continue in the same relationship surprises me, Captain."

"You're surprised that I wanted to keep our command team together?"

"Yes, I am. I expected that the conclusion of the debriefings would bring about a change in your relationship with Chakotay."

"What kind of change?" She looked confused.

"I assumed that your relationship would become more personal in nature—that is, until I learned of his involvement with Seven."

"Oh, that." She shook her head, a blush crawling into her cheeks. "From the moment we met, our relationship was limited and defined by our duties on _Voyager_, and I've learned to accept those limitations." She looked away, unwilling to face him. "But I've come to rely on his friendship, and the truth is that I need him. We've worked together well for nearly eight years, and he suits me in a dozen different ways." She glanced at him and grinned at her petulant tone. "He's the brother I never had."

"Of all the ways to describe your relationship with the commander, I never thought it resembled one between siblings," Tuvok replied, stopping short of confronting her about her true feelings. "Your connection to Seven of Nine, however, always seemed close to that of a parent and an adolescent child."

"Oh, yes, you're right about that-a rebellious adolescent and a weary parent." Janeway groaned and put her feet on the coffee table, trying to relax before a burgeoning headache became serious enough to require a visit to _Voyager_'s EMH. "I feel as responsible for her as a mother would for a wayward child, as if I'd given birth to a baby instead of rescuing a grown woman from the Borg."

"In many ways, Captain, she's not a 'grown' woman."

"All evidence to the contrary." Janeway rolled her eyes. "If you consider her looks alone, she's a woman in every way."

"Yet, she has been deprived of many learning experiences that humans go through as they mature, experiences that are important to her emotional well-being. No matter how old or how womanly she looks, she is emotionally naïve. As a result, it is little wonder that her marriage has not prospered."

"I feel guilty about that."

"Human mothers usually feel guilty when their children experience problems."

"I was her mentor, not her mother."

"I beg to differ." He held up a hand to prevent Janeway from disagreeing. "She's the daughter you never had. She demands from you guidance regarding her social and emotional problems that a daughter usually receives from her mother. A mentor has more to do with one's career decisions and options."

Janeway laughed and gave him an uncomfortable look. "It sounds almost incestuous, doesn't it? The daughter I never had is divorcing the brother I always wanted."

"Indeed." The Vulcan displayed the barest hint of amusement. "Seven has constantly turned to you for guidance since her liberation from the collective, and she has grown used to having your undivided attention, like an only child. It's commonly accepted that only children find it difficult to share the parent's attention with another person."

"You're saying that I've spoiled her." She frowned a moment. "Perhaps I have. While we were still on _Voyager_, she didn't need me this desperately, at least not after the first few months, once she'd become used to her life on the ship."

"That is true, unless there was a time of exceptional stress or uncertainty. At those times, she demanded your full attention."

"Yes, but with growing infrequency as time passed." She scowled, remembering the many occasions when Seven had resisted following her advice over the years, the many times they'd argued. "If she'd listened to me when I advised her to wait a few months before she married Chakotay, we wouldn't be in this predicament."

Tuvok templed his hands in front of his face. "Humans seldom listen to advice that they don't want to hear."

Janeway laughed, "Watch out! You're speaking to a human, you know. But, the truth is that neither of them wanted to listen to anyone who was going to discourage them. We'd barely been back a month when they decided to make a lifelong commitment to a relationship that was just a month or two old. It was too soon after all the upheaval of our return to make such a big decision."

"Undoubtedly. However, my experience has been that humans who believe they are in love are even less receptive to advice that is contrary to their intended actions."

Janeway snorted. "Tell me about it. When I first brought up waiting, Seven accused me of being an old maid and insisted that I wanted her to be an old maid, too."

"Her words were inconsistent with her feelings."

"Really?" Janeway's tone was both amused and affectionate. "You've become an expert at reading human motivations?"

"Hardly." Tuvok lifted a brow. "One only needs to look at her circumstances to find her motivation."

"Tell me."

"She was fearful of the drastic changes that were happening in her life and hoped that marrying Chakotay would help her retain some of the 'family' she was losing. There is an undeniable logic to such a reaction."

"If she felt insecure, it's probably my fault. If I hadn't let myself become so overwhelmed with meetings and debriefings, with all the challenges of disassembling _Voyager_, I could've spent more time with her and provided the security she thought her marriage would supply. Maybe I could have helped all of us avoid this whole debacle."

"It's possible, but I don't think so."

"Why not? I was her sounding board on _Voyager_ for nearly four years. Why wouldn't she continue to come to me if she were feeling insecure?"

"Because she didn't?" He raised an eyebrow at Janeway's glare. "It's possible that she resented the fact that you were busy elsewhere, or perhaps she was simply jealous of you. She could see that you were at home here on Earth, and she was afraid that you might take Chakotay away from her. Competition almost always confuses human relationships."

"Take him away from her? Competition?" Janeway sat up straight to stare at him. "You mean that she grew more serious about Chakotay because she saw me as a rival for his affections?"

"It's possible. She has always been quite competitive with you."

"She is competitive with everyone." Janeway murmured as she grew thoughtful, remembering how poorly Seven had reacted when she'd lost at velocity, or hoverball, or any other competitive activity. "I admit that Seven hates to lose, but I never gave her any reason to believe that I was competing with her for Chakotay's affection."

"Perhaps not in so many words, yet you told me just a few minutes ago that you need him," Tuvok reminded her. "And you called him the brother you never had. That implies a fairly close relationship, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, but I never said those things to her."

"She was a keen observer of human nature."

"What she saw was friendship, but nothing more." She shook her head as her eyes slid away from his. "We settled on friendship long ago."

"Settled on friendship?" The Vulcan leaned forward, his look intent. "So you admit that at one time there was a deeper attraction between you?"

"Years ago, perhaps." Janeway felt her face grow warm with a blush. "Briefly." She took a shuddering breath. "We did absolutely nothing about it. We both knew that it would be a disaster to become involved while we had to maintain a command relationship on _Voyager_, and then, as the years went by, our deeper feelings simply died a natural death."

"Perhaps Seven believed that those feelings would be resurrected."

"You've heard that old Klingon saying, 'Never try to start a fire with half-burned wood.'" She sighed and rested her head on her palm, noticing that the glorious sunset had faded to grey. "I'm afraid, Tuvok, that I've finally lost him for good."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Even though I need Chakotay, Seven needs me more."

Tuvok nodded. "And in a contest between your needs and Seven's, you will always put Seven's needs first."

She looked away, embarrassed at the tears that had filled her eyes. "That's what mothers do, isn't it? Make sacrifices? Put the children's wants and needs before their own?"

Tuvok sat back and crossed his arms, looking out the window at the lights of the city so that Janeway could discreetly wipe the tears from her eyes without his direct observation. "You're too quick to sacrifice your needs for others, Captain, too willing to bear pain rather than cause it."

"Losing him can't hurt any worse than being pulled in two directions at once, Tuvok."

"If you say so." He glanced back at her, noticing the misery in her eyes as she picked up the empty mugs and took them to the kitchen. After she had left the room, he said softly, "I'm afraid you shall soon find out how much losing him will hurt."

tbc


	2. She Said

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 1.2 She Said

**December 30, 2378—Two Weeks Later**

**Jupiter Station**

_Voyager_'s EMH took a few final readings of Seven's optical implant and then closed the medical tricorder with a snap. As he calibrated a piece of technology that looked more appropriate for an engine room than a sickbay, he said, "A simple adjustment should eliminate the periods of double vision that have been troubling you."

"Thank you." Seven perched upon one of the biobeds in Jupiter Station, carefully repressing the panic she'd felt earlier in the day over her visual difficulties. Her extreme reaction was just another symptom of the emotional upheaval she'd experienced in the weeks and months since her emotional dampener had been removed.

As the doctor worked, he sensed the turmoil he patient felt and once again blamed himself for her struggle. He reminded himself that "hindsight is always 20-20," but, as usual, took little comfort from the worn-out adage. He applied the device to her left eye and waited for the tiny blinking red light to turn green. "There. That should do it."

Seven blinked and focused her eyes at several different distances before she nodded in approval. "I can already discern an improvement in my visual acuity, Doctor. Thank you."

"My pleasure." He turned to put away the device before he brought up a proposal. "I've wanted to talk to you about resuming a more frequent checkup schedule, similar to what we followed on _Voyager_."

"The medical personnel on Earth have been most attentive."

"I don't think so. They didn't prevent the visual problems that brought you all the way to Jupiter station today." He narrowed his eyes as he thought of a possible problem. "You have been skipping the checkups, am I correct?"

"I've been busy."

"That's why you should see me. I won't let you skip your appointments. However, I realize that coming all the way to Jupiter Station on a weekly basis will interfere with other critical duties, not to mention your regeneration regimen."

"Finding time for regeneration is no longer an issue now that my marriage has ended." A delicate blush reddened her face. "In fact, I've considered asking the captain to have my regeneration alcove relocated to Jupiter Station."

"I'm delighted to hear it." He beamed at her. "The sooner the better."

"There is one problem. My chamber's power usage might put too much of a strain on the station's power grid. I'll have to obtain the station engineer's approval before I can move here."

"The captain should be able to facilitate that, and B'Elanna Torres would be able to help the engineer make adjustments, as needed. She's had years of experience with your alcove on _Voyager_. If we all work together, we will surely find an acceptable solution."

"I'm not certain that Lieutenant Torres would be willing to assist me."

"Why wouldn't she?"

"She is one of Chakotay's oldest and dearest friends."

"She's your friend, too."

"I disagree. We are colleagues, at best."

"Even so, I'm sure she'd help if you ask her to do so."

Seven tilted her head slightly. "Lieutenant Torres and I managed to work together when the survival of the ship required it, but we never spent time together as friends and I've seen little of her in recent months. I know that she disapproved of my marriage to Chakotay and was angry when I asked him for a divorce."

The doctor sighed as he closed the storage unit. He suspected that Seven's ambivalent feelings toward the half-Klingon engineer were just another manifestation of the mood swings that had plagued her over the last year—and especially since her marriage had ended a few weeks earlier. "You may be colleagues, but I assure you that B'Elanna will do whatever she can to help you. The captain will demand it, and Chakotay would expect nothing less."

"I don't suppose it would do any harm to ask them." Seven followed him out of the station's clinic and walked with him toward Dr. Zimmerman's lab and quarters, where the EMH had taken up residence. Since her separation from Chakotay, the two of them had spoken on a daily basis and were exploring the possibility of beginning a series of medical experiments that utilized her Borg nanoprobes. Her proposed move to the station would be a first step toward a long-term collaboration.

"I was afraid that Captain Janeway would object to my leaving Earth, but she seemed to welcome it."

"She wants what is best for you, I'm sure."

"I think it has more to do with her own desire to return to space herself."

"There is nothing wrong with that—if everyone benefits. The captain understands that our project would go more smoothly if we were in close proximity, and it would simultaneously give her the chance to return to space. A win-win situation."

"I will ask her to intervene on my behalf the next time we speak."

They walked in silence, enjoying each other's company and the relative quiet of the residential section of the station. Seven's thoughts turned to _Voyager_'s first anniversary celebration, which had taken place just a few days earlier, and she brought up an issue that had been bothering her ever since.

"At the reunion, I could tell that the crew was curious about the divorce." She glanced at the EMH without making eye contact. "They blamed Chakotay's absence that night on me."

The doctor shook his head. "They were curious about his absence, of course, but I doubt that they blamed you for it."

"I disagree. I could sense their disapproval in the questions they asked me. They blamed me for our failed marriage and were quite skeptical when I said that Chakotay and I were simply incompatible."

"A divorce is a difficult problem for the couple's mutual friends to understand. It's best to give them the benefit of the doubt."

"It wasn't just that. Some crew members claimed that I have been acting differently since our return. They said that they have noted a more emotional behavior than ever before, pointing out many examples. I didn't know what to say, and I wondered if they had found out about the deactivation of my emotional dampener."

"Who would have breached your privacy like that? Certainly not Chakotay or the captain." The doctor's brow creased with worry, and he said, in a whisper, "I think you're overreacting. Only a handful of people know that the emotional dampener existed, much less that it was removed." The doctor paused at the door to Zimmerman's laboratory and gestured for Seven to precede him. "As I said, all anyone needs to know is that the marriage didn't work out."

Once they were in the EMH's laboratory, Seven continued the discussion. "No one seemed sadder about the commander's absence than the captain did." She paused, remembering how Janeway had turned to the door of the reception hall as each group entered, searching the faces in vain for her former first officer. "I was shocked when several people asked me if she was the reason for the divorce. They implied that the friendship between Chakotay and the captain might have disrupted our marriage. Many of them implied that they were involved with each other on the ship."

"That rumor is so old it has whiskers. To my knowledge, they've never been romantically involved with each other, and I was in a unique position to be aware of such things."

"That's what Chakotay claimed when I asked him about it."

"You asked him point blank?"

"I wanted to know before I became involved with him. I've always felt excluded when the three of us were together, as if they had a special bond that didn't include me, and I wanted to make sure that the commander was truly available."

"They worked closely as a team for over seven years, Seven. After that length of time, they must have learned to anticipate how the other would react to almost every situation."

"That might be what I sensed, and it is close to Chakotay's explanation, as well." She was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion, and turned to him abruptly. "I need to return to Earth for a period of regeneration."

"Of course, I'll make the arrangements for you to leave on the next shuttle." He went to his computer console and entered a few codes. "I'm planning a visit to Earth next week. I'll check on you while I'm there, recalibrate the alcove, and to talk to B'Elanna about a solution to the power issues here on the station."

Seven retrieved her satchel of PADDs from his desk and then stood staring blindly into the distance. "I made a mistake, Doctor."

He was confused, thinking she might be referring to the technical problem he had just treated. "What mistake?"

"I made a mistake when I married Chakotay. I thought his presence in my life would replace the security and stability I lost when _Voyager_ returned. Ironically, the marriage threw me even further off balance."

The doctor sighed, feeling guilty once again over her emotional distress. "You aren't the only person from the crew to make that mistake. No one knew what was going to happen when we returned, and all of us dealt with that insecurity as best we could. It's just that you had an extra burden to deal with since you were also adjusting to the removal of the emotional dampener." At her silence, he said, "As I recall, Chakotay was in just as much of a hurry to get married as you were."

"I wonder, now, what his motivation was. When Janeway tried to persuade him to wait, he thought she was trying to deny us our chance for happiness and forged ahead. It never occurred to either of us that she actually had our best interests at heart."

"She would never begrudge either of you a chance for happiness, Seven, not Chakotay, and especially not you."

"I know that now," she nodded. "I hurried to do as I pleased, and Chakotay was anxious to prove everyone wrong about us. Now, I've not only ruined my friendship with Chakotay, I've placed the captain in an untenable position. She's caught between us, and I can tell how difficult that is for her."

"Oh, Seven," the doctor sympathized, putting an arm around her shoulder, "I'm sure that she and the commander will salvage their friendship in time. They've been through worse trials than this."

"I'm not so sure, Doctor. I believe that Chakotay's absence from the reunion has much deeper implications, but I'm not in a position to rectify the problem."

"It isn't your job to restore their friendship."

"No, but since I damaged it, I think I should do whatever I can to repair it." She sighed, looking even more tired than before. "I have much to learn about the human heart, and I'm afraid that my first lesson has ended in calamity."

"Whatever has happened, everyone knows you weren't malicious in any action you took." He smiled at her, trying to reassure her. "Things always seem worse when you're tired, and the adjustments I've made to your implant have added to your exhaustion. When you get to Earth, regenerate for at least twelve hours. I'm sure everything will seem less tragic when your cycle is complete."

"Perhaps so." She stepped past him toward the door. "Thank you again for your help."

"Any time, Seven. I wish you'd reconsider your decision to keep the deactivation of the emotional dampener private. If the crew was aware of the struggle you've been through, they might be more generous in their attitude about what has transpired."

"I don't want their pity, doctor, nor am I seeking an excuse for my mistakes."

"I beg you to talk to the captain about your feelings, if no one else."

"I'll think about it."

They walked to Zimmerman's private transporter alcove where the EMH confirmed her passage on the next shuttle heading toward Earth. They said their goodbyes, and then he watched her beam onto her ship.

"I wish I had talked to the captain before I removed the dampener," he said to himself as the shimmering light faded. His heart was heavy with remorse, and he shuddered as he remembered Janeway's reaction when he informed her about the procedure soon after _Voyager_'s return to the Sol system.

_Seven went to the captain in tears when she'd learned that teams of Starfleet personnel were scheduled to beam aboard the ship the next morning and begin a detailed study of the astrometrics lab. In spite of the hour, nearly 3 a.m. ship's time, Janeway spent an hour reasoning with the former drone before she finally gave up and summoned the doctor. _

_"She's inconsolable, doctor," Janeway whispered when he arrived at her quarters. "It's as if she thinks these people are coming here to violate her in some way." _

_He gave Seven a mild sedative, and then they'd accompanied her to cargo bay two. Once Seven was safely regenerating in her alcove, Janeway turned to him with worry in her eyes. _

_"I know she's been anxious about meeting new people and dealing with a larger 'collective,' but I can't remember seeing her so overwrought before." _

_He hesitated, but then realized he had no choice but to betray Seven's privacy in order to help the captain understand her panic. He told her about his removal of the emotional dampener just a few hours before the admiral arrived from the future. For a few moments, Janeway stared at him with her mouth open. _

_"You did what?" She blinked and glanced at the drone. "I thought you said that removing the dampener would take a series of delicate operations over a period of several weeks." _

_"Since that time, I discovered another procedure that was quite simple. I was able to remove it one evening after she finished her shift." _

_The captain was nearly trembling with fury. "You removed it without discussing the process with me first? Didn't it occur to you that Seven might need some time to prepare for the emotional changes she would be experiencing?" _

_He blinked, unsure of what to say. "She has the right to privacy, Captain. She has the right to decide what will and will not be done to her medically." _

_Janeway walked away from him and stood in front of Seven's alcove, staring up at the former drone, a living, breathing statue in their presence. "You forget that four short years ago, she was as far from being an individual as anyone can be, Doctor. She made no decisions for herself, had no concept of what went into being an independent person. I've never deprived her of her right to self-determination, but I've felt it's essential to give her advice along the way, to help her take each step in the best way possible." She turned to face him. "We've had this discussion too many times, doctor. All you had to do was suggest that she discuss the procedure with me before she plunged ahead with it." _

_He looked away, embarrassed. "I apologize for my arrogance. I thought perhaps I could advise her." _

_The captain stared at him a moment, and then brought her hands to her mouth in surprise. "Your profession of love," she whispered, shaking her head slightly as she remembered the doctor's "deathbed" confession a few weeks earlier when his program had threatened to decompile. "Is that it? You did the procedure because you thought she wanted to explore an emotional relationship with you?" _

Even now, more than a year later, the memory of that embarrassing accusation caused him discomfort. The truth was that the captain had been right. He had hoped that Seven would pursue a relationship with him, and his selfishness had deprived her of the help she needed when the full range and depth of human emotions assailed her. His foolish haste had brought on all of her subsequent struggles, including her discomfort with life in the Alpha Quadrant and especially her failed marriage.

"Physician, heal thyself," he murmured as he returned to his quarters, detached the mobile emitter from his sleeve, and deactivated his program.

tbc


	3. He Said

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By Mizvoy

Part 1.3 He Said

**January 26, 2379—One Month Later**

**Trebus Transport Vessel, Mars orbit**

"I guess I can understand why you want to resign from Starfleet, Chakotay, but I can't forgive you for skipping _Voyager_'s first reunion celebration." B'Elanna Torres sat in the copilot seat of the deep space transport ship and watched as Chakotay methodically went through a detailed preflight checklist. "Why give up seeing everyone you care about just because of a failed marriage?"

He barely glanced at her, as if he hadn't heard a word she'd spoken. Without looking up, he said, "Would you hand me the PADD that's on top the navigation panel?"

"What did Janeway say when you told her you were leaving Starfleet to be a transport captain on Trebus?" she persisted, not moving a muscle to comply with his request.

"Never mind. I can reach it." He leaned past her and grabbed the PADD himself, activating it and studying it carefully as he continued to ignore her. "Chakotay to Gilmore. Have you resolved the intermix problem yet?"

B'Elanna sat back and listened as Chakotay spent the next ten minutes speaking to Gilmore and other members of his sparse crew, many of them former members of _Voyager_'s crew. Not everyone had fit comfortably into the Federation when they'd returned a year earlier, including a couple of the Equinox crew, a few Maquis, and one or two from Starfleet. Chakotay had offered them a job, and they'd gladly joined him. She glanced around at the worn-out ship, reminded of the decrepit vessels she'd labored over in the Maquis, and realized how much Chakotay was giving up.

"Where did this bucket come from, anyway?"

This question he was ready to answer. "The company has been buying up whatever they can find to haul raw material around in the borderlands. I did some scrounging and found it."

"It needs a lot of work."

"We'll have plenty of time to do just that as we chug out to Deep Space Nine. I'm looking forward to being my own boss again."

"I thought you were looking forward to teaching at the Academy."

"I was, but this is a better offer."

"Captaining a transport ship that can barely reach warp six?"

"At least I don't have to play second fiddle."

"Is that what this is about?" She narrowed her eyes with renewed determination. "Are you mad because Starfleet didn't offer you a ship?"

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you skip the reunion?"

"You said, yourself, that there was a lot to be done on this bucket of bolts. I'm working under a deadline here."

"Janeway didn't say anything about this ship or your new job when she was asked about your absence." Her eyes widened. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"It's none of her business, B'Elanna."

"I disagree."

"I don't need her help in making this decision."

"Don't do this without talking it out with somebody. Talk to Janeway, or a counselor, or talk to me." He kept working without acknowledging her words. "Chakotay!"

"There's nothing to talk about," he snapped, slamming his fist on the console. "I've decided that I just don't fit in here, and I have a chance to do something to help my family rebuild their colony. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with that, unless you're running away from problems that you need to face."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then tell me."

"Gilmore to Chakotay."

He took a deep breath. "Go ahead, Marla."

"Chakotay, I'm sorry. I've got to start the initialization over from scratch. It'll be awhile before I can bring the engines online."

He slumped in the pilot's seat, closing his eyes as he told Gilmore to take all the time she needed, and then he turned to B'Elanna. "You wouldn't be willing to go help Marla so we can get out of here, would you?"

"No way. I think the engineering gods have finally heard my plea and intervened to slow you down. Now, will you talk to me?"

"Follow me to my glorious ready room, where we can have something hot to drink." He left the helm and walked across the cramped bridge to a chamber that would have been a closet on _Voyager_. Leaving the door open, Chakotay folded a table down from the wall, revealing a tiny alcove behind it that housed a miniature replicator and computer access panel. "How about some tea?"

"Raktajino, double sweet." She laughed at the face he made, but took a deep draft of the Klingon coffee that Tom Paris had helped her learn to appreciate. Fortified by the sugar and the caffeine, she sat on one side of the table while Chakotay took a seat across from her. "So, what's this really about?"

"What can I say?"

"It's about Seven of Nine, right? It's about the divorce."

"I guess it is, at least partly. I got my freedom and Seven got everything and everybody else."

"What are you talking about? Most of us prefer you to Seven, hands down."

"Not everyone." He sounded miserable.

"You're talking about the captain, right?"

He shook his head. "That's just part of it."

"Janeway was your closest friend on _Voyager_, everyone knows that. And now she's busy mothering Seven again."

"Are you surprised by that?" He took a deep breath. "I really think that she wanted to see our marriage fail."

"You've got to be kidding." She sat forward, her eyes flashing. "That's hardly fair."

"Since when does 'fair' mean anything in a relationship?" He rubbed his face with his hands, fighting exhaustion. "I'm sure everyone blames me for the divorce, anyway."

"Who could blame you for divorcing a cold-hearted, insensitive, arrogant, self-absorbed former Borg drone?"

"You're being too hard on her, B'Elanna. She's come a long way in five years, and besides, she's the one who's asking for the divorce, remember? Not me."

"Only because you refused to start the legal process after she walked out on you." She watched as he gazed at the computer screen, studying the numbers that scrolled by as Marla worked on restarting the engines. "You didn't talk to Janeway at all about leaving, did you?"

"What would I say?" He shrugged and glanced at her. "She's busy helping Seven get settled into her own place and adjust to being single again."

"That doesn't mean that she can't be your friend, too."

"She doesn't have time for both of us, so I'm just going to move on. I don't want to see either of them."

"If you don't want a Starfleet career, maybe you could find work around here."

"And keep running into them? No thanks." Chakotay set the mug of tea on the table and leaned his chair back against the wall, his arms crossed on his chest. "Anyway, that's not how it works, not in a divorce. Everything you share goes to one person or the other, including friends. And Seven has dibs on Kathryn, the doctor, Starfleet . . . ."

"That's more bull." B'Elanna struggled to keep her temper. "All kinds of divorced people serve in Starfleet without running into each other, and, anyway, I can't believe that Janeway would stop being your friend."

"Oh, yeah? She stopped confiding in me months ago. As soon as she heard that Seven and I were dating, everything changed between us. She became aloof and started treating me like I was poison. She's ferocious about protecting Seven's feelings and even warned Seven about . . . oh, never mind."

"Janeway never approved of this marriage, everybody knows that, but then she was hardly alone." Her eyes widened in surprise. "You haven't talked to her because you don't want her to say 'I told you so.'"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed. "'I told you so' was the first thing out of her mouth when she found out that Seven had moved out." He shook his head. "Kathryn warned Seven that everything was happening too fast, but she was much more specific in what she said to me. She said that Seven was too inexperienced and naïve to settle down, that she is at least ten years younger emotionally than she is physically. She reminded me that Seven had had one date prior to becoming involved with me, a date that had ended in complete disaster. And then she warned me that the prospect of being thrown into a society with billions of unknown individuals scared Seven half to death. She suggested that Seven was using me as a safety net against all the change she was facing, and that no marriage could survive if it was based on that kind of dependency."

"All good points. Too bad you didn't listen."

"Oh, I thought I knew Seven better than Kathryn did, and I was determined to prove her wrong."

"You did everything humanly possible to make it work, Chakotay. You have nothing to be ashamed of." She paused, studying her friend's face. "You just don't want to admit, even to yourself, that the captain was right. It's pride. It's a matter of pride for you, isn't it?"

"It's despair." He let his chair return to all four legs and picked up his mug, draining it before returning it to the table with a thud. "Kathryn has been Seven's mentor from day one, and she's spent hours listening to and arguing with Seven over a multitude of ethical and philosophical issues. She sees Seven's flaws and limitations clearly and she accepts them." He rubbed his face with his hands. "Conversely, I avoided Seven from day one, and when I finally decided to get involved with her, I saw what I wanted to see and planned to change whatever didn't suit me. I'm paying the price for my stupidity."

"Love is blind, Chakotay," B'Elanna murmured, her eyes warm with sympathy. "Everybody deludes themselves early in a relationship-everybody. There's no shame in being a human in love, after all."

He shook his head. "You're wrong if you think I was blinded by love. I cared about Seven enough to keep working at the marriage as long as she was willing to try, too. The truth was that I wanted to show Kathryn that she was wrong about us. I wanted to rub her nose in it. I guess my motivation was pride, all right, pride and vindictiveness."

"So you're saying that you got involved with Seven to hurt Janeway? Why would you do that?"

"It wasn't a conscious decision." He stood up and walked the two steps to the tiny sliver of a viewport, keeping his back to her. "Kathryn poured herself into Seven's burgeoning humanity as if she were assembling a human being from the spare parts. She focused all of her free time on the project, and I decided that it would only be fair if I took the finished product right out from under her nose, as payback."

B'Elanna took in a quick breath. "You were jealous of Seven's relationship with the captain."

"That sounds so selfish," he laughed softly. "But the truth hurts."

"I always thought the rumors about you and Janeway were exaggerated."

"The rumors." His shoulders fell slightly. "I'm not going there, B'Elanna, but I will say that Kathryn was my friend, my best friend out there, and that was enough as long as we stayed out there. My involvement with Seven couldn't change my friendship with Kathryn-unless we got home. Just my luck."

Marla Gilmore's voice interrupted them. "Chakotay, I finally have all green panels down here. We're ready to leave orbit whenever you give the order."

"Thanks, Marla. Stand by." Chakotay turned to his friend. "I need to secure this table."

B'Elanna watched as he tidied up, and then she stood up to fold away the chair. "Are you saying that you're sorry about dating Seven?"

"I can't say I was that cold-blooded about it. What man in his right mind wouldn't be attracted to Seven? She's a beautiful and brilliant woman—"

"And she's built like a brick outhouse." B'Elanna caught his arm and turned him to face her. "Chakotay, be honest with me. The reason you won't talk to Janeway isn't just because of pride, is it? It's because you're still in love with her."

"Weren't we all in love with her?" His words surprised B'Elanna so much that her mouth fell open in surprise. "Admit it-we all loved her, and why wouldn't we? Kathryn is fearless, noble, and amazingly original, with a scathing wit and an irreverent sense of humor that make her seem like a normal, flawed human, when, in fact, she's really the perfect Starfleet officer in every way. Even her flaws are endearing-her coffee fixation, her willingness to sacrifice herself for the good of others, her tenacity and dedication, her complete failure as a cook, and her inability to slow down or admit defeat." He sighed and shook his head. "Of course, I loved her, B'Elanna. I had no choice."

"Then you really shouldn't leave like this, with everything unresolved between you. You should tell her how you feel."

"She knows." He shrugged his shoulders and walked onto the bridge. "She's known for years."

"Then why?" She followed him out onto the bridge. "I mean, if you love her, why would you—"

"Get involved with Seven of Nine?" He sat down at the helm and began to enter the codes that would prepare the ship for departure. "The reason is obvious, B'Elanna. Kathryn doesn't love me back."

"You know that?" B'Elanna laid a hand on his shoulder, but he ignored her. "She told you that she doesn't love you?"

"She didn't have to." He closed his eyes and put a hand on top of hers, giving it a quick squeeze. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now. She'd never get involved with Seven's ex-husband."

"So you're leaving because it hurts too much to stay."

"I guess so." He resumed his work. Moments later, B'Elanna could feel the vibrations in the floor plating as the engines come online. "Anyway, if I talked to her, she'd convince me to stay and accept whatever damned parameters she wants to put in place to limit our relationship, and I'm not doing that anymore."

"I'm not a counselor, and God knows I've managed to screw up my life enough times, but it seems to me that your decision-making process always takes the captain into account and never yourself. To me, that means you have unresolved issues that you need to take care of or you'll never be happy."

He laughed. "Don't you think I would have resolved these issues years ago, if I wanted to, B'Elanna? I just have to learn to live with them, and right now, distance seems to be the best solution."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" B'Elanna whispered. "Can I talk to her for you?"

"Please, don't." He gave her a brave smile. "I'll leave you an address where you can send news of the crew." His head drooped and his voice was barely audible. "And keep me posted on what's going on with Kathryn?"

"Sure." She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That's the least I can do. And you'll keep me posted on what's going on with you?"

"Yeah. We're going to be working in the borderlands between Trebus and Dorvan, with an occasional trip to Deep Space 9. If you're ever in the area, look me up?"

"Absolutely. That's a promise."

She walked to the turbolift, stepping aside as the two members of the bridge crew arrived. Chakotay was too busy to notice that she lingered at the back of the bridge watching him. She felt sorry for all that he was giving up and wished once again that she could have convinced him to stay.

But she also understood why he had to go.

tbc


	4. Not To Decide Is To Decide

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 1.4 Not to Decide is To Decide

**February 4, 2379—One week later**

**The Janeway Farm, Indiana**

Martha Kathryn Janeway O'Reilly was a textbook example of a "busybody."

Gretchen Janeway, her sister-in-law of nearly fifty years, always listened to Martha's tirades without comment, preferring to unload her own frustrations on whoever was around when Martha left. She'd hoped that Martha would mellow as she got older, but, if anything, she had only gotten worse. Gretchen never missed her husband more than when his sister was on her soapbox, because Edward had possessed the brotherly ability of silencing her with a few well-chosen words. And in Martha O'Reilly's case, silence was golden.

Martha was in fine form today, aiming her comments at Gretchen's older daughter, Kathryn. She had been offering Kathryn unsolicited advice from the moment she'd arrived, and, in an effort to prevent an explosion, Gretchen had managed to lure Martha into the kitchen and give Kathryn a much-needed chance to regain control of her temper. However, relocating Martha did not mean that she was about to let the subject drop.

"You've talked to her," Martha whispered, peering over Gretchen's shoulder toward the family room where her Kathryn sat staring into the fire. "Maybe you can tell me what put the burr under her saddle."

"Kathryn doesn't have a 'burr under her saddle,' Martha, unless you put it there. The counselors told us it might take a few months for her to recover from her ordeal out there. We just have to give her time."

"A few months? It's been over a year, Gretchen, and she still disconnects from us as if she's slipping into some sort of damned dream state." She drummed her fingers on the counter as Gretchen fixed coffee. "Is she depressed now the way she was when Eddie died?"

Gretchen lifted the old fashioned coffee pot to eye level, checking the amount of cold water it held, and shook her head. "Not depressed, really, but she does have periods of melancholy, just like the rest of us."

"She seemed almost normal when I saw her at Thanksgiving. Did something happen to her after I left for Florida? Over the winter break? Was she depressed after seeing the crew again at the _Voyager_ reunion in December?"

"Maybe." Gretchen slid the coffee-filled basket into the pot, added the lid, and plugged the device into the wall. She stared at the device as it began to percolate, deep in thought, and then said, "Maybe it's the divorce."

"Divorce?" Martha snorted. "Are you telling me that our career girl actually found the time to get married? Without telling me?"

"Not _her_ divorce, Martha. Seven's divorce."

"Oh, Gretchen, are you talking about that female Borg?" Martha leaned on the counter and watched Gretchen carefully slice the caramel brownies into squares and arrange them on a serving plate. "Honestly, you'd think Kathryn had personally given birth to that drone."

"She does feel responsible for her, but I suspect her sadness has more to do with the husband, Chakotay."

"The man who was her first officer."

"Right, and I don't think she's seen much of him since the divorce. I know he didn't attend their reunion, and I've even heard he's taken a job in deep space. She probably misses him."

"Well, who wouldn't miss him," Martha laughed, giving Gretchen an exaggerated wink. "I'd say the man is just about unforgettable."

Gretchen narrowed her eyes, yet couldn't help but agree. "He seems to have completely disappeared, I've heard."

"Disappeared?"

"We've heard through the grape vine that he resigned from Starfleet and took a job with a transport company in the borderlands."

"The grape vine? You mean Kathryn doesn't hear from him?"

"I don't think she does, at least not directly. When his wife filed for divorce, Kathryn had to step in and give her advice about how to adjust to being single, find a place to live, and so on. Because Kathryn was focused on her, Chakotay went his separate way."

"Divorces. Somebody always gets the shaft—in this case, Kathryn. She gets saddled with her pet Borg and loses a dreamboat in the process."

"Martha, you're a mess." Gretchen laughed as she put four mugs on a tray and poured the steaming coffee into them. "Bring the brownies, will you?"

In the family room, they found Phoebe curled up on one end of the sofa fast asleep under a quilt and Kathryn standing at the window watching the snow falling.

"I made some brownies yesterday," Gretchen said as she set the tray on the coffee table. "I thought they would taste good with coffee."

"You spoil me," Kathryn replied as she turned from the window and gave her mom a smile. "I'm going to have to order a larger uniform if you keep this up."

"I'd say you'd be better off to gain a little weight at your age," Martha quipped as she handed her the platter of brownies. "Men appreciate a little more woman to grab onto as they grow older."

Phoebe's eyes appeared from beneath the quilt. "Which men would that be, Aunt Martha? The shuffleboard set down in Tampa?"

"All retired admirals, my dear," Martha replied, unwilling to rise to Phoebe's bait. "And remarkably virile for their age, I might add. I've tried for years to get your mother to come spend the winters in Florida with me. It's been twenty years since Eddie died, Gretchen. I think you can move on now."

"Who says I haven't?" Gretchen gave her girls a warning look and took a seat by the fire. "Pass the brownies, Kate."

Kathryn took the largest brownie she could find, passed the plate to her sister, and then snared a mug of coffee from the tray. Taking the opposite end of the sofa from where Phoebe was sprawled, she said, "It was the desire to eat these brownies again that kept my hopes alive out in the Delta Quadrant."

"And your crew, darling?" Martha asked, sitting in the chair across from her sister-in-law. "Are they settling back into their lives now?"

"For the most part."

"Even the Borg one? What was her number?"

"Seven of Nine," Phoebe giggled from under the quilt. "Honestly, Aunt Martha, it's her name, not her 'number'!"

"I'm sure she has a real name, Phoebe," Martha sniffed, as she ignored the warning glare that Gretchen directed toward her. "She does, doesn't she, Kathryn?"

"Annika Hansen," Kathryn replied, struggling to keep her temper in check, "although she prefers to use her Borg designation."

"That's it." Phoebe sat up and reached for a mug of coffee. "She has a designation, not a number."

"Does she live with you, Kathryn?" Martha wondered.

"No, she doesn't. Seven is dependent on a Borg regeneration chamber that's currently housed at a cybernetic lab at the Daystrom Institute in Oakland," Kathryn explained. "When she isn't regenerating, she works at the Institute or with our EMH on Jupiter Station."

Martha was incredulous. "She plugs herself into something? Like a coffee pot?"

"Not exactly, although the process is similar." Kathryn's faced was flushed with irritation. "Her implants require maintenance to continue working properly, and the alcove is able to take care of that." Her voice was deadly calm, but her eyes were blazing. Phoebe and Gretchen made eye contact, both trying to think of a way to avert the inevitable confrontation that Martha was inciting.

Martha, oblivious, pressed on. "I understand from your mother that you spend a lot of time with her."

"We work in the same office complex, and I monitor most of the work she does with the cybernetic team."

"Does she still wear those skin-tight suits?" Martha's eyes twinkled with amusement. "My word, Katie, how did keep the men from jumping her bones on that little ship? What's a man to do with a woman strutting around with her wares on such obvious display? They must have had to start wearing codpieces."

"Honestly, Martha," Gretchen sighed as she gestured for Kathryn to keep her seat. "Not everyone's mind is in the gutter all the time, you know. She needed the tight suit because of the damage done to her body during her assimilation. Right, Kathryn?"

"That's right," Kathryn replied, a muscle twitching in her jaw.

"Well, she could have worn something over it, couldn't she? Slacks and a top? Maybe a jumper?" Martha sipped her coffee thoughtfully, her eyes unfocused, "Although I assume that since your first officer was busy with her, the lower-ranking officers naturally left her alone."

Kathryn slammed her mug down on the tray and stood up, her fists tightly gripped. She glared at her aunt, who continued to sip her coffee, unmindful to her niece's fury, and then she turned to her mother, who was braced for confrontation. "Can't you do something, Mother?"

"About what?" Phoebe teased, trying to inject a little humor into the situation. "Did you sit on a tack or something?"

Kathryn forced herself to keep a straight face and then glanced at the clock. "Would you look at the time? I had no idea it was this late. If you'll excuse me, I need to make some calls."

She steamed out of the room at full impulse, and the others watched her go, knowing better than to try to stop her.

"I didn't mean to make her angry, Gretchen," Martha said a few moments later, looking almost remorseful. "I was just thinking out loud."

"Oh, sure you didn't," Gretchen sighed as Phoebe rolled her eyes in disbelief.

A few hours later, soon after Martha O'Reilly had gone home to Florida, Gretchen peeked into the study where Kathryn had holed up. Except for the pool of light beneath the green-shaded desk lamp and the moonlight reflected from the snow, the room was dark and filled with the relaxing sounds of a piano concerto. Kathryn sat in the desk chair, her back to the door as she watched the snow falling in big fat flakes on the patio behind the house.

"Do I need to wave a white flag?" Gretchen said as she pushed the door open. "I come in peace."

"What?" Kathryn twirled in the chair and smiled. "You only need a white flag if you have Aunt Martha with you. But if that's the case, have her wave it. I'll use it as a target."

"She's gone, and she's taken her overbearing attitude with her." Gretchen set the tray she was carrying on the desk. "I've brought you a bowl of hot soup as a peace offering."

"You're not responsible for what Aunt Martha says and does, Mom." She scooted toward the desk and lifted the lid from the bowl of soup, only to put it back down with a loud clang, her face turning pale. "Mushroom soup?"

"You don't like mushroom soup?" Gretchen sat down in a chair facing the desk. "It's very good. I made it from scratch, but if you aren't in the mood, don't eat it. You won't hurt my feelings."

"No, I like mushroom soup. I was just surprised to see it, that's all." Kathryn set the lid aside and pushed her spoon through the steaming liquid. "I usually have broth."

Gretchen watched her daughter closely, a thoughtful look on her face. "I know how challenging your Aunt Martha can be, but try to overlook her brusqueness. The truth is that she's worried about you. She thinks you're depressed, the way you were when we lost Justin and your dad."

"Why would she think that?" Kathryn leaned forward and blew on a spoonful of soup before putting in into her mouth. "This is really good, by the way."

"You have to be hungry, since you hid out in here instead of joining us for dinner." She grinned at the face her daughter made. "You do seem to disengage from us at times, the way you did then, and there are times when you look sad. But at least you aren't sleeping your life away, refusing to eat, skipping work, or looking like you wished you were dead."

Kathryn rested her chin on her hand. "The whole _Voyager_ ordeal is something I'm still grappling with, Mom. I'm seeing a counselor, and she's helping, but it was a long time to be under so much pressure. I'm not the only one dealing with issues, most of the crew is, too, and, of course, I tend to worry about their problems as much as I do my own."

"Or more so. You're finally willing to admit that you're taking on everyone's problems? That's a relief. I appreciate an honest answer. Thank you for that."

"It's pretty common for a captain to feel responsible for the crew," Kathryn grinned. "Why wouldn't I be honest about it?"

"Because honesty hurts." She took a deep breath before plunging on. "I'll be honest, too. You seem to have taken Seven's problems as your own when they should be hers to deal with. I've noticed a definite correlation between her flare-ups and your withdrawal from us."

"I am responsible for her, Mom." She put the lid back on the soup bowl and pushed it away. "She wouldn't be dealing with these issues if I hadn't liberated her from the collective."

"No, she'd still be a drone in the Delta Quadrant, or killed in the explosions that brought _Voyager_ home."

"I guess that's true."

"Should I feel guilty, too? I mean, you wouldn't be dealing with these problems if I hadn't given birth to you."

"Of course not, but I get your point." The younger woman pushed back from the desk and swiveled the chair so that her back was turned toward her mother once again. "While my relationship toward her might seem maternal, there are big differences. I feel that I should help her adjust to her new life and guilty for having put her in this situation, but I'm not her mother."

"How is it different? I don't think anyone in the world can feel more guilt than a mother does when one of her children is suffering. But, be that as it may, there's more going on here than you're sharing." She waited patiently for an answer, only to realize that Kathryn was ignoring her. "Kate, we need to discuss this."

"I'd rather not."

"Why not? Have you done something that you don't want to admit?"

Kathryn turned halfway around and glared at her mother. "I beg your pardon?"

"There have been rumors about how close you and Seven might really be."

"If you're referring to the rumors of a romantic liaison between us, then the answer is 'no.' You should know by now that I'm strictly heterosexual."

"I never believed those particular rumors, but there are other rumors that seem fairly plausible."

"I don't discuss rumors, Mom, not even with you." She turned back to the window, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. "Would you just leave, please? And take the soup with you?"

Gretchen huffed. "I'm not ready to leave."

"Suit yourself. Leave or stay. I'm finished talking." She laced her fingers together, put her hands behind her head, and leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes and listening to the music. She knew her mother could see her reflection in the window, so she composed her expression and waited for her to give up and depart.

"I have a theory," her mother said softly, "that your unhappiness isn't really about Seven, at all. I think it has more to do with your former first officer."

In spite of her determination to keep her face inscrutable, Kathryn's eyes flew open. "Chakotay? I hardly feel responsible for him, Mother. He's a big boy, and he's made his own choices."

"You limited his choices, though, didn't you?" She studied her daughter's face in the window's reflection, and then said, "Rumor has it that Chakotay was in love with you for years and that you refused to give him the time of day because he was your subordinate."

No reaction.

"Rumor has it that he turned to Seven in despair of ever getting an honest answer from you about your feelings."

Silence.

"Rumors say that your quick return to Earth was facilitated by a person from the future who came back to change an unhappy past, to give all of you new and better choices—perhaps you, most of all."

Kathryn's cold blue eyes fastened on Gretchen's face in the window's reflection. "Mother, you know that certain details of our return are classified."

"I've also heard that when Seven filed for divorce, you turned your back on Chakotay in favor of being her mentor and comforter, and that he resigned from Starfleet and left the Federation because he was jealous of Seven's relationship with you."

"It wasn't like that." Kathryn leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. "You make it sound so coldblooded. I tried to talk to him, many times. It's just that Seven needed a place to stay and someone to help her fit in. She was totally intimidated by Earth, and she needed a friend."

"And Chakotay didn't?"

"Mom, you know what divorce is like. You're friends with both parties during the marriage, but once they're separated it becomes too complicated. They're worried that you'll betray their confidences or that they'll run into the other person while they're with you. I never stopped being friends with Chakotay, but Seven needed my help more than he did. So I helped her."

"And in the process, lost contact with Chakotay."

"More or less." She shrugged. "It was his decision to leave without even saying goodbye."

Gretchen sat down. "When we were finally able to get regular communication from you, thanks to Pathfinder, Phoebe and I noticed how frequently Chakotay's name came up in your messages. It seemed you spent a great deal of time with him, on duty and off, and that you considered him a friend as well as a first officer." She watched as Kathryn hid her face behind her hand and massaged her forehead with her fingertips. "Seven was much less important to you personally, from what we could tell. And yet, here you are, focused on her while he's completely absent from your life."

"I was caught in the middle," she replied, her voice tight with emotion. "I guess that Chakotay realized how hard it was for me to be a friend to both of them, so he withdrew from the equation. He left to make it easier on me, Mother."

Gretchen nodded, her heart breaking. "And you, sweetie? How do you feel about that now?"

"I miss him, of course."

"That's it? You just miss him?"

"What did you expect me to say?"

"I expected you to tell me the truth, Kathryn, no matter how much it hurts. I expected you to be honest with yourself, as well."

"All right." Kathryn swiveled in her chair and faced her mother, her eyes bright with tears. "I miss him every day. I miss his smile and his sense of humor and the way he makes me laugh. I miss the way he sticks silly comments into his reports. I miss his vegetable lasagna. I miss his advice and perspective on the problems I face. I'm always surprised when I realize that he isn't around. I find myself talking to him as if he's still in the seat beside me, and I wish I could find the courage to find him and convince him to come back." She paused to regain control of her emotions before she asked, "Do you feel better now? Is that the confession you wanted to hear?"

Gretchen's heart was breaking. "Katie, does he know that you love him?"

Kathryn didn't answer the question, but simply took a calming breath and laced her fingers together on the desktop. "Mushroom soup is his favorite," she said, as if that explained everything. "Please, Mom, take it away and let me have some time to myself."

"If you insist." Gretchen stood up and retrieved the tray, standing in front of the desk a moment before she turned to leave the room. She stopped at the door and looked back, making one last comment. "He deserves to know the truth, don't you think? You should find him and tell him how you feel, Katie. Then, whatever happens, you know that everything was out in the open."

Kathryn waited until her mother was gone before she cradled her head in her arms and cried.

tbc


	5. Escape

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 1.5 Escape

**Feb. 4, 2379- Same day **

**Trebus Transport Vessel, Fringes of Sol System**

"Chakotay seems depressed, that's all," Mariah Henley explained as Mike Ayala sat down in the copilot's seat and began the usual pre-shift check of the security settings. "It's not like him to sulk in his quarters for days at a time."

"The divorce hit him hard, I guess."

"Well, Seven of Nine was never a good choice for him, in my opinion."

"In everyone's opinion. Who would imagine that Chakotay, one of the most spiritual people I ever met, would hook up with a former Borg drone?"

"It boggles the imagination." She finished her check of the helm and sat back to sip her tea. "Were you ever around them while they were married?"

"Not really. I saw Chakotay almost every day during the debriefings, but I never ran into Seven of Nine. I take that they weren't blissfully happy?"

"I think that's an understatement." She glanced around the tiny bridge and lowered her voice. "Everybody looks at Seven and sees her obvious physical attributes, but they underestimate the Borg baggage she carries, both emotionally and in the flesh."

"That's true," Ayala agreed, giving her a wink. "I don't think most guys thought much past what would happen in the bedroom."

"Well, don't feel bad. What man does think much beyond that?" Mariah laughed as Ayala rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I heard that they argued a lot, and it was really tough to be around them for any length of time without getting pulled into the middle of their disagreements."

"Now that you mention it, I remember B'Elanna talking about that."

"Seven wasn't very flexible. She got upset if he was two minutes late, and she didn't react well to unexpected changes in their plans."

"And it was even worse when Janeway was around."

"I know. I was with the three of them once, and it was like watching a tennis match. Chakotay said something that Seven disagreed with, but he persisted, which just made Seven angry. So the captain tried to suggest a compromise, but, really, it was obvious that she agreed with Chakotay. Seven was livid and accused Janeway of taking sides against her. Meanwhile, Chakotay was smug and sort of rubbed it in, pointing out that Janeway's opinion bolstered his own. That made Janeway back off a bit, only to have Chakotay accuse her of giving in to Seven when she knew better. Seven just smiled that supercilious smile she has. At that point, I had to leave the room. I hated to see Janeway in a lose/lose proposition, and it was pretty obvious that Janeway hated it, too."

Mike laughed. "Sounds awful. B'Elanna used to crack us up describing the way Seven complained about marriage. The questions she asked were a hoot. 'Does he want to copulate all the time?'; 'Does he snore and hog the covers?'; 'Does he refuse to pick up his dirty socks and leave the milk on the counter all night?' It got to the point that B'Elanna took off in the opposite direction whenever she saw Seven approaching."

"I heard about that stuff, too. What about Chakotay? Who did he talk to?"

"Good question. Under normal circumstances, I'd guess that he talked to Janeway, since she was really his best friend after Kurt Bandera died."

"So Janeway heard it from both sides." Mariah sighed.

"Too bad Seven kept that burning desire to achieve Borg perfection." Mike shook his head. "And I heard that she tried to 'perfect' Chakotay, too."

"She did, and she wanted a regular routine, day in and day out, to the minute." She leaned toward him. "The joke is that she once asked B'Elanna how much time she and Tom allotted for foreplay. Seems that Seven has some internal clock she uses to keep track of such things."

"Oh, boy, I bet B'Elanna wanted to punch her lights out when she asked that question," Mike laughed. "I'm surprised she lived through it."

"But really, Mike, can't you just imagine how Seven might behave in bed? Things are progressing nicely, building gradually to a climax, and then she sits up and announces, 'Sufficient foreplay has taken place; we may now proceed to copulation.'"

Mike burst out laughing, and the two of them were still chuckling when Chakotay stepped out of the turbolift, at which time they stopped. Chakotay knew that they must have been laughing at his expense. He ignored the uncomfortable atmosphere that greeted them and gave them a tentative smile.

"Don't let me spoil the fun."

"We thought you were having lunch," Mike said, glancing at Mariah.

"I was, but Chell told me that Mariah hasn't eaten yet, so I came up to take her place while she goes below. I recommend having the 'Maquiche' with Swiss cheese and spinach. It was really good."

"Sure, Chakotay, 'Maquiche' sounds good to me, too." As she left her seat, she gave Mike a warning glance, hoping that he wouldn't tell their new captain that he'd been the butt of their joke. "I won't be gone long."

"Take your time," Chakotay said, sliding into the pilot's seat. "I don't have anything better to do at the moment." After Mariah boarded the 'lift, Chakotay reviewed the helm's settings, did a quick scan of surrounding space, and then turned to Mike, who was suddenly captivated by the routine space lane messages that were scrolling across the tactical panel. "So, Mike, are you going to tell me what was so funny?"

"I'd rather not." Mike blushed and glanced at his captain, taking note of the determined look on the man's face. He realized that he had no choice; Chakotay deserved to hear the truth, if he really wanted to know. It was tough to be the subject of so much gossip, and, to his knowledge, Chakotay didn't have a real friend that he could confide in. Since he'd known the man longer than anyone else on the ship, Mike was more than willing to fill the void. "You probably don't want to know."

"Because it was about me, right?"

"More or less."

"And it had to do with my blighted relationship with Seven, right?" At Mike's nod, he rubbed his face with his hands. "I've been hoping that all the rumors would eventually die down."

"They will, with time. It's already well on its way to being old news."

"Yeah, sure it is." Chakotay stared into the blackness of space, computing in his head how long it would take them to get to Trebus and put the cargo ship to work. _Voyager_ could be there in a less than six days, but this bucket would take six full weeks, if they were lucky. He might as well get used to living in close quarters with his crew-which meant there would be few, if any, secrets between them. "I wonder if I'd be better off just talking about it to people."

"I don't know, either. People don't like her, and they wonder if you lost your mind when you got involved with her."

"I probably ought to talk to somebody, if I'm going to get over it."

"You can always talk to me. If I have the facts, I might be able to quash some of the more ridiculous rumors."

Chakotay narrowed his eyes. "It's really not my style."

"You know you can trust me, and, like you said, it might do you good to get some of this stuff off your chest."

"It just might." He smiled at his friend and took a deep, calming breath. "I started seeing her just before the admiral arrived from the future."

"Yeah. I thought it started really late in the journey."

"It was just a playful thing, really, nothing serious. I had a feeling that she was just exploring what it was like to date someone and that I was the safest person to use."

"It's hard to think of Seven as playful."

"Yeah, I imagine it is. But she can be very charming, if she wants to be."

"If you say so."

Chakotay chuckled. "Things seemed to be going along fine. We'd had a few dates, and she was ready to take the next step, I think, on the very night the admiral arrived from the future. In fact, we were called to the bridge during our very first kiss."

"Wow. Bad timing."

"That's what I thought." He shook his head and sighed. "The admiral's presence really upset everything. In fact, I think the admiral must have talked to her, because for awhile there, Seven had cold feet."

"Really? She had second thoughts that early?"

"Yeah, she did, but, fool that I am, I refused to heed the warning signs. I just kept charging ahead with the relationship like a bull in a china closet."

"Well, don't feel too bad. We've all done it once or twice in our lives." Mike gave him a sympathetic look.

"I also ignored the way everyone thought my dating her was a bad idea."

"It was something of a shock when we found out," Mike agreed, remembering the way the news had raced through the crew like wildfire. "The fact is that everybody expected you to hook up with-." He stopped, suddenly realizing that what he was about to say was the one topic everyone avoided mentioning around either Chakotay or Janeway.

"They expected me to start seeing Kathryn Janeway?" Chakotay kept his eyes focused on the view screen. "They figured we'd end up together, right?"

"Yeah, we did, actually."

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes before Chakotay heaved an audible sigh and gave him a rueful look. "Well, I managed to screw that up royally, didn't I?"

Mike barely managed to cover his surprise. He never expected Chakotay to admit that he had designs on their former captain. The details of the command team's intimate friendship had been a taboo subject on _Voyager_, and Chakotay had always managed to sidestep any probing questions with a joke or a vague answer. "You mean you screwed it up because you got involved with Seven?"

"Once I messed with the captain's pet reclamation project, I was off limits."

"Why would that matter?"

"Seven is like a surrogate daughter to her, Mike. Being Seven's ex-husband is the only sure-fire way to guarantee that Janeway keeps her distance, don't you think?"

"I guess that never occurred to me." Mike grew thoughtful. "But, if you're still interested in Janeway, I don't understand why you're leaving for the borderlands. I mean, now that you and Seven are divorced, you'd be free to date the her, if that's what you want."

"Do you really think she'd get involved with Seven's ex-husband?"

"You won't know until you try."

"I've had about all the rejection I can stand, Mike." Chakotay stared at him a moment and then laughed. "Maybe you're hoping I'll resign as captain so you can be given command of this grand vessel."

"That's not it. I just-," Mike paused, trying to think of the best way to say what he wanted to say. "Well, I've suspected for years that you cared for Janeway, and I always thought that the feelings were mutual."

"All evidence to the contrary."

"Because she hasn't reached out to you? Maybe she wanted to, but couldn't."

"Then because her feelings for Seven take precedence?" He crossed his arms. "She's made her choice, then."

"Shouldn't you make sure of her feelings before you give up for good?"

"It's too late for Kathryn and me, Mike. Too much has happened between us over the years, too many missed opportunities. Whatever spark was there at first has long since fizzled out."

"So you're giving up? Just like that?"

"No, not 'just like that,'" he snapped before taking a moment to regain his composure. "It's been eight years, Mike, eight long years. You can't blame me for wanting to move on after waiting that long, can you?"

"I guess not." Mike glanced at the older man, feeling sorry for him. "It's just a shame, that's all. You two always seemed so good together."

"It's too damned late, Mike."

"For what it's worth, I really am sorry to hear that, Chakotay."

"I'm sorry, too, Mike." He called up the navigational display on the view screen and watched as the Sol System slowly receded behind them. He wondered idly when, or if, he'd see Kathryn again. "I'm sorry, too."

They sat in silence until Mariah Henley returned to the bridge twenty minutes later. By then, the Sol system had been swallowed up by the stars.

tbc


	6. I Spy

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 2.1 I Spy

**Two Years after **_**Voyager**_**'s Return**

**January 15, 2380—Eleven months later**

**Dorvan V**

"Dorvan isn't much like I remember it," Chakotay said as he and his sister, Liana, walked along the river that had once bordered their parents' village. The Cardassian barrage of the planet more than a decade earlier had eradicated the population and had also changed the landscape.

"Part of the reason might be that you never lived here, and you only visited a couple of times after the family moved here from Trebus."

"Five times. You weren't here the last two, when Father and I argued so much. You'd gotten married and moved back to Trebus by then."

"I heard all about the arguments, though. Mother was really upset."

"So was I, and for good reason. I knew the Cardassians couldn't be trusted."

"The course of the river wasn't changed. The village used to be just north of this turn, and we kids would come down to this pool to swim. I can recognize way some of the rocks are arranged and the curve of the river, but, truthfully, Dorvan isn't much like I remember it, either."

"I tried hard to get our family to leave, Liana." He stopped a moment to pick up a stone and studied it as they walked, finally tossing it into the river. "I really regret that I didn't tell Dad and everyone else how much they meant to me."

"Oh, Chakotay, they knew you loved them."

"If he had only listened to me, maybe he and the others would still be alive." They stopped at an outcropping of rock and sat down to watch the sunset as the river gurgled past them and then slowed in a deep blue pool. "What was that orange berry our Mother made into preserves?"

"The saziberry—the perfect blend of sour and sweet. That's gone, too, as are all of the indigenous plants and animals."

Chakotay nodded and then studied their surroundings. Following the end of the Dominion War, the Federation had restored the ecology of Dorvan, but much of the planet's unique charm had been lost forever. The climate had been permanently altered, less arid than it had been originally, and the plants had been replaced by compatible vegetation and animals from other planets, including Earth. The result was an amalgamation that seemed as artificial as a holodeck simulation.

"This is where we used to come to swim," Liana sighed, gazing into the pool. "The water is deep enough for diving and refreshingly cool on a hot summer day. There were tall trees that arched out over the water, and we used to swing out on ropes and drop in to see who could make the biggest splash." She gave him a shy smile. "If I close my eyes, I can hear the voices of my friends in the wind."

Chakotay put an arm around her shoulders. "I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry."

"They're at peace, and we should be, too." She snuggled into his solid body and gave him a measured look. "How's your job?"

"Oh, it's wonderful. I'm having great fun hauling cargo around."

She giggled. "Just as long as that's all you're doing."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I've been hearing that some transport pilots have found evidence of a smuggling ring that operates out of the Badlands. You wouldn't know about that, would you?"

"Are you accusing me of smuggling?" He glared at her, trying to deflect her line of questioning.

"No, I'm accusing you of sticking your nose into things that you shouldn't. I hope you aren't one of the people sending information to the authorities and meddling in things that could get you killed."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you always want to be the hero, just like every other Starfleet officer."

"I'm not in Starfleet anymore, so you don't have to worry."

"Don't I?" She studied his face and then closed her eyes. "Somehow the Federation has gotten wind of smugglers and has sent a Starfleet ship to look into it."

"Yeah, I heard about that. They're sending the _Hankeel_, Intrepid class, the same kind of ship as _Voyager_, along with a few smaller ships to patrol the area."

She gave him a close look. "You didn't have anything to do with those ships coming out here, I hope."

"You overestimate my influence in Starfleet ship assignments," he chuckled, giving her a wink.

"Well, I didn't think you issued the ship's orders, but you seem to know an awful lot about what's going on."

"Tuvok is the first officer on the _Hankeel_, and he might have mentioned something to me about it." At the confused look on her face, he continued, "He was the security officer on _Voyager_. You didn't meet him after the ship returned because he was on Vulcan undergoing a medical procedure."

"Oh, the Vulcan." She shifted to face him. "I know you transport pilots see a lot out there, good and bad. I'm just warning you not to feel compelled to pass your suspicions and observations on to Starfleet."

"I haven't admitted to doing anything like that, Liana."

"Maybe I should ask you point blank. Have you spied on the smugglers so you could send the information to Starfleet."

He looked down at his hands and murmured, "Are you sure you want me to answer that question?"

"Oh, God, I was afraid of this. Remember that I talk to members of your crew. I know you run scans of surrounding space during your delivery runs. Are you tracking the smugglers?"

He wasn't surprised by her accusation, but he was taken aback by her anger. It was normal for her to suspect him of informing Starfleet, based on his history with them, but she seemed to think he was putting himself—and perhaps the colony-at risk in the process.

"I perform scans to be sure my ship is safe, Liana, just in case pirates decide they want to steal some of the goods I have in my cargo hold, or, worse, take my ship. I know how poorly the smugglers treat informers, and I'm not anxious to experience that treatment first hand."

"I hope that's the truth," she answered, giving him a worried look. "You know about the ships that the smugglers have destroyed in and around the Badlands."

"I know better than you do." Chakotay thought about what he'd seen while hauling supplies to the colonies. The pirates often wanted ships as much as they did the cargo. He knew that the stolen ships were now hauling the smugglers' supplies or contraband and suspected that the crews had been kidnapped, paid off, or forced to join the pirate crew. "Not all of the ships have been destroyed, Liana. Some are being used by the smugglers."

"To carry drugs?"

He nodded. "I hear they deal in several drugs—triptacederine and hydrocorteline to name two. They bring a high price out here in the colonies."

"I thought they were pain killers."

"They are," he laughed, giving her a wink. "And when you use them, you feel no pain."

"Humph." She shook her head. "And what about the crews?"

"Some of them have taken money for the ships and disappeared. Some of them are basically slaves for the smugglers. Eventually, most of them end up dead."

"That's what I'm worried will happen to you, Chakotay. I know you won't sell out. They'll kill you or make your work somewhere awful."

"They have to catch me first."

"Don't joke about this," she snapped. "This is a matter of life and death."

"You're right about that. The more powerful these smugglers become, the more dangerous they are."

"You take your life in your hands to be near the Badlands these days, much less the Cardassian border."

"And that's why I don't go near either one, Liana, and not just because of the smugglers. The Cardassians still have a price on my head, remember."

"I wish I knew that threat would slow you down. You always do the right thing, no matter what the cost. That's why you joined Starfleet, and that's why you resigned and joined the Maquis." She clucked her tongue in a way that reminded him of their mother. "Sometimes it's better to mind your own business, Chakotay."

He gathered some loose stones and stood up so he could toss them into the pool of water, watching the rings spread out toward the shore. "'Sometimes' is the operative word, Liana. Minding their own business didn't do our parents much good, did it?" He saw the worried look on her face and gave her a reassuring smile. "When a stone is thrown into the pond, the rings affect everything around it to a certain degree. The same thing happens when smugglers are allowed to operate without fear. If we ignore it, we can still be swamped by the waves."

"Just don't try to be a hero."

"I promise I won't try to be a hero."

"And promise me that you will leave the problem of the smugglers to Starfleet."

"I promise. I wouldn't do anything that would put Dorvan or Trebus in harm's way, but I'm not sorry to hear that Starfleet is sending ships to help stabilize the region. Smugglers can quickly undermine the status quo we've worked so hard to restore."

"Do you think Starfleet will catch them?"

"They will if they're smart, and they usually are. Tuvok will make sure of that." He squinted at the orange sun sliding behind the trees. For a moment, he imagined how he would approach the problem of finding and arresting the criminals and wished that he could play a part in the mission. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "The smugglers are pretty cocky, but I don't think they can avoid Starfleet for long."

"You miss it, don't you?" she asked, seeing the shadow of regret in his eyes. "You miss being in Starfleet, hunting down smugglers, putting your life on the line."

"In some ways, I do miss it. When I was in Starfleet, I could make a difference in the lives of the people around me. Now, I'm just a glorified delivery boy."

"You underestimate how important your job is. We couldn't survive without the supplies and medicines you bring us."

"Oh, I know that. And, Starfleet protocols often kept me from doing what I knew was the right thing."

"That's why you joined the Maquis."

"Exactly."

They started back toward the settlement, her arm laced through his, and Chakotay hoped that the discussion had ended. Even though he had been back in the Alpha Quadrant for two years, Liana remained fascinated by his time on _Voyager_ and seldom let a chance go by to interrogate him about the ship, his brief marriage, and the crew. As it turned out, this time was no exception.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and said, "You miss the _Voyager_ crew, too, don't you?"

"I miss some of them."

"I think you were happier on _Voyager_ than you have been in many years."

"Oh, really?" he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "What makes you say that?"

"You sounded happy in the letters you sent me, content with your life and pleased with the people who surrounded you." She paused a moment, and Chakotay held his breath, certain that she was about to bring up a delicate and painful subject. "It seemed to me that the captain had a lot to do with your happiness, yet, to my knowledge, you never talk to her now."

"She's an admiral now." He shrugged. "We're still friends."

"Friends don't ignore friend's messages."

He stopped walking and turned his back on her, taking in the sunset that filled the sky with crimson light. "She's just one friend out of many, Liana. I keep track of her through our mutual friends."

"And the letters that your captain has asked me to deliver to you?" She waited a moment before she asked, "Have you finally answered them?"

Chakotay frowned. "No, I haven't answered them."

"Have you even read them?"

"Liana," he turned and gave her an irritated look, "whether I've read them or not is my own business."

"So you haven't read them. That's not like you." She walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I worry about you, Chakotay. Your life has been fraught with turmoil, from the day you told Father you wanted to join Starfleet as a young boy. You seemed happy

enough in Starfleet until the Cardassians ruined everything, and then you were just angry and lashing out. _Voyager_ seemed to mute that anger. When you left Starfleet, I'd hoped that you'd be content with your life out here, but now I wonder."

"Wonder about what?"

"I wonder whether you'll ever be content. I talk to people on Trebus, and I know that you keep to yourself, travel constantly, refuse to date any of the women who flirt with you."

"I have lost all interest in women," he proclaimed, his mouth twitching into a grin.

Liana laughed aloud. "Now I know something is wrong."

He chuckled. The family joke was that he never denied himself female companionship for long, and it was true that he'd never been without a steady girlfriend while growing up. "I just need time to get over my divorce, that's all."

"You're blaming this on Seven of Nine?"

"No, of course not. My track record with women hasn't been good in recent years, as you know." He felt a blush warming his face. "I've decided that it might be best to embrace celibacy."

"You must be joking." Her eyes widened when she saw how serious he was. "I've talked to the _Voyager_ crew members, and they tell me that the divorce is just part of it. They say you are more upset by the loss of a friend who is impossible to replace."

He sighed and gave her a rueful look. "Let me guess. We're talking about the admiral again."

"You let Seven come between you, didn't you?"

"It's just that Seven had a stronger claim on her time, a more desperate need for her help than I did. And when I realized that my presence was causing more unhappiness and discomfort to everyone involved, I decided to find greener pastures."

"Oh, Chakotay. You ran away."

His temper flared. "No, I didn't run away. I just gave everyone the room they needed to get over the divorce."

"You should at least read the admiral's messages and see what she has to say. It's obvious that she still wants to keep the lines of communication open." She waited for him to respond, and when he refused to speak, she continued, "She was in a tough position, caught between two friends, and you should give her the benefit of the doubt. She must miss you, or she wouldn't keep sending these messages to you."

He shuddered as a flash of anger ignited deep within. "She wants to have everything her way, that's all. She wants to call the shots again, just as she did on _Voyager_, and she wants me to come running like her loyal first officer always did."

"Why so angry?" She studied his profile, wondering what else it might be that was bothering him, when her eyes widened. "Don't tell me you're still in love with her."

He slid his eyes sideways at her, and then closed them. "Of course not."

"That would certainly explain a lot. You know, it might help to imagine what it was like to be in her position. She was always caught in the middle, forced to respond to Seven's need for help and protection, forced to put her friendship with you aside for a while. Yet, through all of this, she has never once been asked what she wants. You and Seven have made all the decisions, and she's just had to do the best she can with the outcome."

"I hadn't thought of it that way." He rubbed his face.

"Yet, in spite of it, she continues to reach out to you. Read the messages, Chakotay. Promise me?"

He shrugged, still unwilling to open old wounds. "I will—when I'm ready."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for." They resumed their leisurely walk back to the settlement. "How long will you be here? Will you stay the weekend?"

"It all depends on when the next shipment is ready, I guess."

"My children will be thrilled to have you around a bit longer. I wish you would reconsider and make Dorvan your home base, so we could spend more time together."

"When the transport company opens a permanent office here, I'll see about it."

"That will be wonderful. It's important to stay close to your family."

Chakotay pulled her arm through his. "That's true unless they become too bossy."

"I just want you to be happy, brother."

"So that's why you harass me?" He laughed. "Making me suffer so that I'll be happy reminds me of the saying, 'this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.'"

"Pain isn't always a bad thing, you know. It lets you know what issues still need to be healed."

"But, Liana, some scars ache for a lifetime."

"Oh, I know." She squeezed his arm. "I just hope that, in your case, this pain that troubles you will someday disappear for good."

"And sometimes pain is all we have to remember a happy time that is gone forever."

Tears filling her eyes, Liana looked around at her altered home world and nodded. "I'm happy here with my husband and family, and yet always a continuing sadness over what I've lost. As I grow older, I realize that all experiences are bittersweet."

"Yes," he replied, thinking of all the precious things that _Voyager_'s return had cost him. "Bittersweet is right—good and bad all mixed together."

"So we hold onto the sweet and let the bitterness die away."

"When you learn how to do that, promise you'll teach me?"

Liana laughed, "I promise."

tbc


	7. DS9

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 2.2 DS9

**Jan. 15, 2380- The Same Day **

**Deep Space Nine**

"Terok Nor. Not a terribly poetic name." Kathryn Janeway walked along the upper level of the station's Promenade with Commander Tuvok at her side. They'd just left a dinner meeting hosted by Colonel Kira and were walking off the rich meal before they returned to the _Hankeel_, which was docked at one of the station's upper pylons. "That's what the Cardassians called this place, you know."

"Indeed."

She looked at him with curiosity. "You told Kira that this is your first visit to the station."

"It is. As you recall, I was still under cover with the Maquis when _Voyager_ stopped here nine years ago."

"Of course, that's right. How could I forget?" She glanced around at their austere surroundings. "I find this place less than hospitable."

"That is hardly a surprise. The station was originally designed to process uridium ore that was mined on Bajor."

"That explains a lot, but, honestly, it's about as warm and welcoming as any other Cardassian-built facility I've ever visited. The lighting is barely sufficient, it's too damned hot, and the whole place reeks of rokassa juice."

"The temperature, while excessive for humans, actually suits me quite well." Tuvok sniffed the air with a frown. "And I don't smell rokassa juice."

"So much for the Vulcan superior olfactory sense," she quipped, giving him a wry grin.

He failed rise to the bait. "I believe you're simply prejudiced against anything Cardassian."

"That may be it," she admitted. She paused at the railing and looked down at the lower level where a Bajoran mother shepherded two young boys past Quark's Bar, trying to keep them from gawking at a nearly naked Dabo girl beckoning customers to enter the establishment. "I have no special place in my heart for Cardassians."

"If I remember correctly, you were once captured and imprisoned by them."

"Yes, and I have unconfirmed suspicions that they played a role in the shuttle crash that killed my father and fiancé." She turned and leaned against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing through the towering windows toward the pylons that arched gracefully overhead. "I have a long, unhappy history with them, to be sure."

"And yet you took on this assignment—to find and arrest the drug lords who are plaguing the Cardassians."

"I was wondering how long it would be before you asked ask me about that." She gave him a fond look.

Tuvok had become the first officer of the Intrepid class ship, _Hankeel_, six months earlier, about the same time that Janeway had taken over the "Romulan desk" at Starfleet HQ during the Shinzon uprising and in the tumultuous months that followed. However, when she heard that the _Hankeel_ had been ordered to DS9, she had volunteered to take the mission, a fact that had surprised him. She had arrived at DS9 just an hour before Kira's meeting commenced, making this the first chance they'd had to talk privately since they had last been together on Earth.

"You must admit, Admiral, that seeking out an alleged drug smuggling ring is not your usual assignment."

"Oh, it isn't that different from any other assignment, is it? The thought of staying any longer at Starfleet Headquarters when I could be busy here was something I wasn't ready to face."

"And your work on Romulus?"

"That situation is cooling down nicely," she chuckled, "and they were threatening to send me to Romulus. Have you been there? It's not exactly a vacation spot. Most of the ticklish diplomacy is finished. Now it's just a matter of maintaining what has been set in place and decorating the military attaché's office suite." She scrunched her nose in disdain.

"So, you are here, even though the mission might mean that you have to work closely with the Cardassians?"

"We won't have to speak to them if we work fast and get this resolved. The Cardassian government is still in shambles, and there are dozens of factions vying for power. It would take a miracle for them to get organized behind a single spokesperson when the leadership changes from day to day."

"Keeping the lines of communication open during a time of flux is difficult."

"Yes, it is, but it plays well into this particular situation. Starfleet is stretched thin. The last thing we need is a strong, nosy Cardassian government that wants to 'help' us hunt down smugglers."

"Do you believe we can finish quickly enough?"

"Time will tell."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "And what will you do when this assignment if completed?"

"I have no idea. I keep asking myself why I took this damned promotion when I much prefer standing on my own bridge. Oh, there are other benefits. For example, the Romulan problem kept me from 'helping' Seven as much as she wanted and forced her to experience some much-needed independence. My absence now will make it more likely that she'll no longer need me as desperately as she did a year ago."

"She has made remarkable strides in the last six months. I had the opportunity to visit with her and EMH at Dr. Zimmerman's laboratory a few months ago, and she seemed to have regained much of the maturity that she was exhibiting during those last months on _Voyager_."

"I think so, too." Janeway pushed away from the railing and began to walk once again. "Taking care of this drug smuggling problem will go a long way toward normalizing our diplomatic relations with the Cardassians, and I enjoy defusing a potentially explosive confrontation, not to mention bringing criminals to justice."

"It's quite likely that the mission will require a return to the Badlands." He fell into step beside her. "Neither of us had the best of luck during our last visit to the region."

"Luck, Tuvok?" she replied, her mouth quirking into a grin. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were superstitious.

"Superstitions are illogical."

"That's more like it," she laughed. They walked quietly for a few moments as Janeway waited for him to address the unspoken issue between them. Finally giving up, she said, "Are you going to ask me about the rumors?"

He gave her a stern look. "Rumors?"

"The rumors about the identity of our informant?"

"I put very little credence in rumors, Admiral."

"Oh, Tuvok, don't even try to lie to me," she laughed, wagging a finger at him. "We both know that any security officer worth his salt never ignores a good rumor. I'm sure you heard every rumor anyone whispered on _Voyager_."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Then, let me rephrase my remark. In this case, I've heard no rumors worthy of my regard."

"Really?" She stopped to face him. "Now that surprises me. Are you suggesting that you haven't heard whispers about who this anonymous informant might be?"

"There is an anonymous informant?" He waited as she simply tapped her foot; he knew quite well there was information coming from somewhere. "While the identity of the informant would be helpful, it isn't critical to the performance of our mission."

"It might be critical to the validity of the information, don't you think?"

"Not if the informant is who I suspect it might be."

"So you have heard the rumors."

"Of course." His face betrayed no emotion, even though Janeway realized that he must be a curious as she was. "In this case, rumors represent nothing but sheer speculation."

"Yet, rumors do, at times, point us in the right direction."

The Vulcan inclined his head slightly. "I have found that they do, at times, contain a kernel of truth."

"Exactly." She decided not to gloat over her minor victory and pressed on. "Whoever this informant is, he or she is risking everything to tell us what he or she knows, don't you think?"

"Indeed. If the smugglers determine the informant's identity before we subdue them, his or her life could be in danger."

"What kind of person would risk so much to get rid of a drug ring?"

"A competitor, perhaps?"

Janeway laughed aloud. "Oh, Tuvok, you can be so droll, and with such a straight face."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, his expression inscrutable.

"A competitor would risk being caught, too, if he turned in the smugglers. No, the informant has to be a person of high principle, a person who believes in doing the right thing, no matter what the cost." She looked up at him. "Don't you think?"

"That is another possibility."

She smiled. "Doesn't that sound like someone we know? Someone who lives and works in this region of space?"

"Are you suggesting, Admiral, that a former member of _Voyager_'s senior staff might be the informant?"

"Shhh. Not here." She looked around at the deserted deck, lowering her voice. "Many transport ships travel extensively in the region where these smugglers operate, and many of _Voyager_'s crew work for them. It could be any number of people."

Tuvok had known all along, of course, that Chakotay was rumored to be the informant, and he wasn't surprised that Janeway had heard what he had. It would be in character for Chakotay to be involved in compiling and submitting the clandestine reports. He wondered if Janeway hoped to make contact with Chakotay while she was in the area, yet refrained from asking the question point blank.

"Should I bother to enumerate the many unfounded and wishful assumptions on which your suggestion is based?"

"No, that won't be necessary," she grinned. "You know as well as I do that Starfleet's efforts to nail down the informant's identity have failed—and that alone says a lot about the person's cunning, don't you think?"

"It tells me that this informant is experienced in subterfuge and is aware of the extraordinary need for confidentiality in this case."

"And that's why I have a good feeling that the informant might be-." She stopped, unwilling to speak Chakotay's name even in the relative security of the DS9. "Well, you-know-who."

"I've wondered if these rumors are your personal motive for taking this mission, Admiral."

They arrived at the entryway to the docking rings and let their conversation lapse as they went through security, Tuvok's question still hanging unanswered between them. When, a few moments later, they arrived at her new quarters on the _Hankeel_, she looked over her rooms and found that her aide had unpacked her bags for her.

"One of the nice perks about being an admiral is having an aide like Jeanine," Janeway remarked as she glanced at the replicator. "Would you like some tea?"

"Allow me to serve you, Admiral."

She sank onto the sofa, grateful for the chance to rest. The trip from Earth had been long and tiring. When he brought her a steaming mug of coffee, she gestured for him to join her. "I assume that we can speak freely here?"

"The room is secure and the ship has adequate shielding from any eavesdropper on the station," he answered. He sat down across from her.

"I've been itching to look at these files since Kira gave them to us." She pulled a data chip from a tiny pocket in her uniform and picked up a tricorder that her aide had conveniently left on the coffee table. "Have you seen the latest data, Tuvok?"

"I have not. Kira indicated that she would not transmit the informant's latest update over subspace nor would she give it to anyone but you."

"That's what she told me, too, which only tells me that we have something very sensitive here. Give me a minute. Once I've looked at it, I'd like your independent analysis."

"Very well."

Tuvok templed his fingers and calmed his mind as Janeway delved into the report.

The aftermath of the Dominion War had opened the door to two ancient professions—piracy and smuggling. Starfleet lacked the ships and personnel to resume their previous level of patrol along trade routes and border regions near the Badlands. Some planets, like Bajor, had tried to fill in the gap with their own militia and had been marginally effective in keeping down the piracy, but vast areas of space between the planetary systems were infrequently monitored, creating a haven for smugglers.

The residents of the entire region were worried about this thriving criminal element but were afraid to come forward with information. In the silence of fear, the smugglers prospered and Starfleet naively believed that "no news was good news."

That complacency had been shattered by the informant's reports of the size and arrogance of the smuggler's influence. Starfleet had also received formal complaints from Cardassia claiming that they had confiscated several large caches of marajii crystals and other drugs on three of their stations nearest the DMZ. They blamed the drug trade on small transport ships that also delivered food and construction materials from an area of space near the Badlands. The fact that these ships were protected by powerful and expensive Restaii fighters while they were in open space supported Cardassia's claim that their cargo was much more valuable than bread and power conduits.

"It's worse than we thought." Janeway looked up from the PADD with an unhappy scowl on her face. "Starfleet should have responded to this alleged smuggling ring months ago, Tuvok. Years ago."

"You find the information trustworthy?"

"I sure do, and I'm convinced that this mission is important for a variety of reasons. This drug ring threatens to undermine the fragile balance of power along the entire Cardassian border. The smugglers have impressive protection and firepower, more than the Bajoran fleet can handle. If we allow the smuggling to continue unabated, we take the risk that the Cardassians will cross the demilitarized zone and take care of it for us, and I have a feeling they won't be anxious to leave."

"We can't let that happen."

"No, we can't, but that isn't all that's at risk here. Critical trade lanes are under the shadow of a real threat." She picked up her coffee mug, took a drink, and sat back on the sofa. "All ships that travel through the region, whether they're carrying cargo or personnel, need to do so without the threat of a criminal element operating in the same trade lanes. Because Starfleet has been unable to patrol the region adequately, most transport companies have banded together and hired independent security vessels to protect them, including a few that use Restaii fighters, maybe the same ones that the smugglers use. For that reason, we can't jump to the conclusion that any transport ship with a Restaii escort is suspicious."

"True. We'd be better off finding the location of the processing plant and hitting them where it really hurts."

"I agree." She handed him the PADD. "Take a look and let me know what you think."

While Tuvok reviewed the data, Janeway gazed blindly out of _Hankeel_'s windows at the elegant structure of the station, marveling at how graceful it was on the outside compared to the stark ugliness of its interior. When she heard Tuvok shift in his seat, she turned to face him.

"Well?" she asked.

"No wonder the informant reported these smugglers to us. They are operating with impunity in both Federation space and the Badlands."

"Yes, they are. Whoever this informant is, he must have felt that it was well worth risking his life and his ship to provide us with this information."

"His life and ship?"

She nodded as she picked up the PADD and pulled up a recent scan. Handing it to him, she asked, "The data is carefully structured to prevent us from finding out the informant's identity, but look at the format."

He glanced at the feedback and studied it carefully. "This is very detailed and systematic. It isn't a casual or occasional scan, but a carefully orchestrated series done over time." He paused, confounded. "This is a search pattern worthy of someone who has done deep space exploration."

"That's what I thought. He or she used the best known pattern for scanning large regions of unknown space."

"However, the pattern is standard operating procedure in Starfleet," Tuvok reminded her. "And many of the pilots and engineers in the region have worked closely with Starfleet personnel during the war."

"These were done with scanners that are nearly state-of-the-art, and the scans were done with a classic Starfleet procedure. Who would bother with that?"

"Someone who wants to spy on smugglers, like a former Starfleet officer." Tuvok continued to play the devil's advocate. "The transport captain could have devised the pattern himself, or he might have read about it in a report."

She laughed. "I don't think so, Tuvok. Why would a transport captain spend the time and effort to devise a search pattern like this? And Starfleet isn't in the practice of publishing tactical scanning protocols for public consumption." She poured herself another cup of coffee and sat back to look at him. "No, this informant served in Starfleet, and recently."

"You must be correct." Tuvok turned in his seat and gazed out the window at the dozens of vessels docked at the station. "Few if any of these ships are properly equipped with advanced level scanners. They are not designed to spy on the smugglers."

"Well, they aren't really spying, if you want to be technical about it." At Tuvok's raised brow, she explained, "Is it spying to take note of unusual events or phenomena as your ship flies through space? Is it spying to make routine scans of neighboring space in order to detect an unexpected threat along the trade route, say from pirates? If this person has stumbled upon the information and passed it on, can that be called spying?"

"What else can it be called? Whether it's deliberate or not matters little to the smugglers. This pilot and his ship are a real threat to the smugglers' existence."

"That's why Starfleet must eliminate the threat as quickly as possible, before the smugglers find out about the informant's existence." Janeway fell silent, her eyes troubled. "This person has been careful to cover his or her tracks. Let's hope he keeps well-hidden."

"We must do what we can to protect him."

"That means that we can't afford to enlist the aid of any of the transport companies during the mission. If we use them, we implicate them. I want the smugglers to think that our information has been provided to us by the Cardassians, not anyone else."

"Very well."

She reached down and unzipped her boots, sighing in relief as they dropped to the floor. She was tired, but her day was far from over.

Kira had received a request to set up a meeting between Janeway and a "person of interest." In an hour or so, Janeway would join Kira in a remote area of DS9 to wait for this person to approach them. Janeway was hoping to receive even more detailed information about the smugglers, perhaps the location of their processing center, but only time would tell. In the meantime, she had a few minutes to relax.

"I suppose that you've checked the security arrangements for the meeting?"

"I have resigned myself to accept the level of security that Colonel Kira feels is adequate. I dislike the idea of beaming you to an undisclosed location, and I still don't understand why this 'person of interest' can't simply come to us."

"Isn't it obvious? He, or she, doesn't want to be identified." She crossed her legs and absently rubbed the arch of her foot. "Surely you understand that this is a risk I must take, Kira and I together."

"I am simply informing you of my concerns for your personal safety, Admiral, as is my responsibility."

She shook her head, exasperated. "Fine. You're concerns have been noted."

"I didn't mean to imply that you're being careless," Tuvok apologized, realizing that he'd hit a nerve. "I'm simply concerned that this secret meeting might be dangerous."

"And I appreciate that concern, Tuvok, but I'm convinced that this individual must have data that is critical to the success of our mission."

Tuvok harrumphed a reply.

"The _Hankeel_ is tethered to the station, Tuvok," she concluded, standing up to signal his dismissal, "and you're just a quick comm link away. I'll be fine."

"Very well." He also stood and bowed slightly. "Please contact me as soon as you return from the rendezvous."

"I will." She gestured at the door as she resumed her seat. "But if it's late and there's nothing of critical impact, I'll wait until morning."

"Understood. Good luck, Admiral." He headed for the door, pausing beside her chair to place a hand on her shoulder in an extraordinary gesture of unease. "Don't take any unnecessary chances."

She looked up at him in surprise, touched by his uncharacteristic show of affection. "I'll be careful, Tuvok. I promise."

With a nod of his head, the Vulcan was gone.

tbc


	8. Loyalty

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 2.3 Passive Scan

**Jan. 15, 2380-Five minutes later**

**U.S.S. **_**Hankeel**_

The Vulcan made his way from Admiral Janeway's quarters through the ship to his bridge station where he could keep an eye on the ship's passive sensors and monitor the admiral's whereabouts. With just a few entries into his control panel, a diagram of the ship appeared with a yellow flashing dot indicating the admiral's location a few decks below. On an adjacent panel, a diagram of DS9 appeared, ready to display her location when she beamed to the clandestine meeting in an hour's time. Tuvok was gratified to see his hastily made plans work so well.

"O'Dell to Commander Tuvok."

"Tuvok here, Captain."

"What is your location?"

"I am on the bridge."

"Am I correct to assume that the admiral has returned to the ship?" O'Dell had also been present at Kira's dinner, but had returned directly to the ship while Tuvok and Janeway had taken their stroll through the station.

"Affirmative."

"Then, will you please join me in the ready room?"

"Yes, ma'am." Tuvok shut down the panels, circled his station, and headed for the captain's inner sanctuary, the doors opening on his arrival.

"All necessary security for the meeting is in place?" O'Dell asked as the doors slid shut behind him.

"Yes, Captain. The admiral is convinced that Colonel Kira has taken adequate steps to insure her safety."

O'Dell frowned and looked aside, and Tuvok realized that she had probably taken note of his access to the passive scanners. "So why are you watching Janeway's location now?"

"Although Kira has assured us of the admiral's safety, redundancy is always a good idea when it comes to such matters."

"But Janeway is on _Hankeel_."

"Indeed."

"She is going to a secure space station, Tuvok, run by our allies. I'm not sure how she would feel about having her location monitored from the bridge." O'Dell leaned back in her chair. "And you know, of course, that Starfleet protocol prohibits the active use of ship sensors when docked at DS9."

"I'm aware of Starfleet protocol, Captain, and am not using active sensors. However, there is no prohibition to a passive scan, which is all that I will be using."

"Did the admiral approve of this?"

Tuvok did not reply, instead keeping his gaze steady over at a spot just over O'Dell's left shoulder.

"I didn't think so." O'Dell stood up and gave him a long look before she went to her replicator and ordered a drink. "Would you like something, Commander?"

"No, thank you."

She thought about what was transpiring and wondered whether she should report Tuvok's activities to the admiral. She had been present on DS9 when Janeway and Kira had discussed the plans for the secret meeting and had noticed the frown on Tuvok's face. But the two of them had served together for over two decades, and so O'Dell felt at a disadvantage. She returned to her desk and nursed her tea. "Janeway was determined to follow through on this meeting. She wouldn't want anything to interfere with it."

"The informant will be unaware of the passive scan, Captain."

"Didn't Janeway order you to defer the arrangements to Kira and DS9 personnel?"

"The admiral ordered me to refrain from keeping a transporter lock upon her life signs, and I am following that order, ma'am. However, she did not forbid a passive scan of her location."

"Only because she probably didn't think that you might do it. What you're doing would seem to be a breach of the spirit, if not the letter of her orders." At Tuvok's silence, O'Dell continued, "I don't want to second-guess Kira's efficiency, especially since we'll need her cooperation as this investigation continues."

"I understand your concern, Captain, but I am not doubting the security in place. I am simply augmenting it. I assure you that the passive scan will not be considered a breach of protocol."

"As long as it remains passive." O'Dell frowned, aware of how limited such scans were, how tempting it would be to increase to active scans if something unexpected transpired. She pulled up the screen that Tuvok had been studying on the bridge. Janeway's location was clearly visible. "I don't understand how a passive scan brings up her commbadge this way"

"It doesn't detect her commbadge, of course." Tuvok raised a brow at the absurdity of her comment. "I'm scanning for the chemical marker that I introduced into her coffee earlier this evening."

"Chemical marker?" The captain's mouth fell open in surprise, and she leaned closer to the screen, scandalized by his statement. "You put a reactive element in Janeway's coffee?"

"Of course not. I used barium sulfate, a non-reactive substance. It will cause her no physical discomfort, but is readily visible to a passive scan."

She looked up. "And what if the informant notices it?"

Tuvok narrowed his eyes. "Why would the informant scan for barium sulfate?"

O'Dell laughed, leaned back in her chair, and gave him a measured look, repressing a smile in the process. "I had no idea that Vulcans could be so devious."

"I am not being devious, Captain. I am simply taking advantage of vague wording of the admiral's orders."

"You're parsing her meaning."

"I am. If you find this irregular, I suggest that you make a note in your logs."

"Not to worry. I already have." She shook her head. "I don't want to be a victim of the admiral's wrath when she returns to the ship."

"I have worked with Admiral Janeway for over twenty years, and I assure you that she will not be angry about a non-intrusive effort aimed toward keeping her from harm. At most, she will be more scrupulous with the wording of her future orders."

"As will I!" O'Dell laughed out loud. "Commander, I didn't realize that you had such a dry sense of humor!"

"I assure you, Captain, that I do not have a sense of humor, at all," he deadpanned as the captain laughed again. "I have learned after years of serving with Admiral Janeway that it is worthwhile to anticipate complications when she involves herself in a mission."

"She gets into trouble?"

"So it would seem. Although she plans meticulously, she tends to react quickly during fluid situations without taking the time to anticipate all of the possible adverse outcomes."

"This is something I should keep in mind, I'm thinking."

"I would recommend it, Captain."

"And she prefers to be in on the action."

"That would be an understatement."

O'Dell nodded, filing away the information for future reference. "Just be sure to keep that scan passive, Tuvok."

"Aye, Captain."

"Dismissed."

O'Dell watched the ready room doors close behind him and shook her head. She understood the loyalty that developed between crews that served long tours together, but it seemed to her that this Voyager crew carried that loyalty to a higher level than most. It was a reasonable reaction to their long exile, but also a bit worrisome. She had a feeling that having Admiral Janeway on board was going to be a challenge.

In the meantime, Tuvok returned to his station and reactivated the sensors, satisfied to see that the admiral's life sign showed up as clearly as it had earlier. He checked the time and realized that she would be returning to DS9 in less than fifteen minutes. He estimated that the meeting would take no more than thirty minutes, well within the twelve-hour usefulness of the barium sulfate.

He glanced at O'Dell's ready room door and wondered if she would inform the admiral of his trickery. Janeway would no doubt be unhappy with his extraordinary effort to protect her safety, but, as Chakotay often said, with Janeway, it's easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission. If something went wrong, she would be grateful for his caution. If nothing went wrong, she would never need to know anything about it.

Soon, the ship would be navigating the Badlands. Tuvok found it ironic that one of his first assignments after _Voyager_'s journey would bring him back to the location where he had been on an undercover assignment with Chakotay's Maquis cell nine years earlier. The Maquis had used the Badlands in much the same way as the smugglers used them today—as a base for covert operations and as a refuge from the authorities—and so he was well-suited for the assignment.

He wondered if Janeway knew for sure that Chakotay was the informant. It was possible. Few people on _Voyager_ had been aware of the true nature of Janeway's relationship with Chakotay. Even Tuvok had been in the dark, and he'd been in a unique position of observing them in stressful situations and unguarded moments. It wasn't until he and Janeway had shared a mind meld that he'd become aware of the depth of their intimate friendship. His attempts to discuss it with her had always resulted in his immediate dismissal. It was a subject she expertly deflected while they were still in the Delta Quadrant and was a moot point by the time they arrived home.

He had watched with sadness as she and Chakotay gradually grew apart. By the time _Voyager_ had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, the commander had begun his disastrous relationship with Seven of Nine, and Janeway had found herself caught between them. What had transpired had been the worst possible outcome for everyone. Seven was moving to Jupiter Station under the tutelage of the EMH, Chakotay had fled to Trebus, and Janeway was struggling to find happiness in her work. Knowing Janeway as he did, he was sure she believed that Chakotay was a necessary element to her life—the brother she never had. He also thought she expected Chakotay to be the secret visitor she would be meeting on DS9.

He looked across the central expanse at the windows of the massive space station. In just minutes, Janeway would beam to an unknown location, barely concealing her excitement as she waited for the meeting to begin. The Vulcan feared that her heart would be broken if Chakotay was not the person who appeared. He glanced at his computer screen and watched the shadowed form that was Janeway moving through the ship toward the transporter room.

There was nothing left to do but wait to pick up the pieces.

TBC


	9. Missed Opportunity

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 2.4 Missed Opportunity

**Jan. 15, 2380- Moments later **

**U.S.S. **_**Hankeel**_

In the hour since Tuvok had left her quarters, Janeway had prepared for her trip back to the station. First, she had taken a shower and replicated a new uniform to get rid of the scent of Cardassian cooking that lingered on her clothing and in her hair. That done, she began to pace as she reviewed all the information on the smugglers that she had seen to date. In her mind, the smuggling ring was the biggest threat the Federation had faced since the Dominion War, bigger even than Shinzon's bloodthirsty attack on the Enterprise, and she was anxious to begin the mission to end it.

Her thoughts inevitably strayed to Chakotay. She thought back to the last time she'd seen him in person, more than a year earlier. In fact, she had last seen him just a few days before _Voyager_'s first anniversary party, and barely a week after Seven had moved out of the apartment she'd shared with him. That meeting had proven to be the final blow to their friendship.

Chakotay had come to ask for some kind of help to save his marriage. She had looked up to find him standing in the doorway of her office and could tell from the expression in his eyes that this would be a difficult confrontation.

"_Hi!" she said, as if it were normal for him to appear unannounced at her office during a duty day. "I was about to go to lunch. Join me?" _

_He shrugged. "Why not?" _

_They walked to one of the remote repli-terias in silence. As they replicated their food, she nervously chattered about the details of the upcoming reunion, and he responded with nods or single words of confirmation. She was so upset by his taciturn behavior that she wondered if she'd be able to swallow a bite of food. _

_Picking up her tray, she led him to a table near a window where they could talk without worrying about being overheard. They had just sat down when an unfamiliar man approached them. He was embarrassed and hesitant as he stared at Chakotay's tattoo. "You wouldn't be Commander Chakotay from _Voyager_, would you?" _

_When Chakotay confirmed his name, the man handed him a PADD and left without another word. Chakotay stared at the small screen in disbelief and then looked up at Janeway in shock. "She's filed for divorce. That man was a process server." _

_For a moment, Janeway faltered, a spoonful of soup hovering in front of her face. She tried to think of something to say when she knew he was probably devastated. Flustered, she muttered, "Already?" _

_"Already?" he repeated, his face growing red with fury. "You expected her to file for divorce, didn't you? You knew this was coming." _

_"I had no idea it was coming . . . so soon." _

_"But you knew she was going to file for divorce." He stared at her. "She came running to you as soon as she left me, and you didn't even try to make her work through our problems. You wanted to see our marriage fail." _

_"That's not true. I tried to get her to talk to you." Janeway returned the spoon to her soup bowl with a splash. "And anyway, where else would she go but to me? She asked me to help her think through what she wanted to do next, and I listened, the way any friend would." _

_"You were her friend, not mine, as always." He nodded, his anger nearly choking him. "Who else would be her friend but you? Always, Seven first. Always, everyone else second. You never wanted to share her with me. You don't want Seven and me to reconcile." _

"_I admit that I took Seven under my wing on _Voyager_, but more as a mentor than a friend." Kathryn struggled to keep her temper under control. "And I've never had an agenda when it came to you two. I've suggested that she talk through your problems until I'm blue in the face. In fact, I told her that a divorce was nothing to rush into, but she was about as receptive to that advice as she was when I told her to wait a few months before getting married." _

_His eyes grew darker. "And since you predicted that this marriage was going to be a disaster, who are you to keep that disaster from happening?" He threw the PADD onto the table, upsetting her coffee cup so that she had to scoot back from the table or be scalded as the hot liquid poured off of her side of the table. He stood up and stormed away, tossing a few last words over his shoulder. "Thanks for all your help." _

_"Wait just a minute," she shouted, trotting to catch up with him. "I admit that I thought from the first that this marriage would be a calamity. I warned you that she was too immature for marriage, that she needed to adjust to all the changes facing us this year before she made a lifelong commitment. I begged you to slow down and take your time." _

_He glared down at her. "'I told you so.' Is that how you intend to comfort me? I thought we were friends, Kathryn. I thought you would listen to me, too, and maybe even take my side once in awhile. I just found out that my wife is divorcing me, and all you can say is 'I told you so'?" _

_She stepped back, nearly stumbling. "I never said that. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, has done more than I have to help the two of you communicate better. I'm sick to death of being a go-between when neither of you seems interested in doing what it takes to make things work." _

"_A go-between? When have you ever come to me to facilitate a meeting?" _

"_I can't force her to see you!" Tears of frustration burned in her eyes. "And I haven't come to you with a message from Seven because she doesn't want to talk to you!" _

_His eyes softened at her pain as he took a deep breath. "She's really and truly through?" _

"_So it would seem. And I'm not sure that your protests are helping." _

_"So, of course, since you've sided with Seven on this, you think I should just accept the divorce and move on." _

_"I think you should do what you believe is right. And no matter what you think, I've tried hard not to take sides, Chakotay. I wish I knew what I could do to help you both find happiness." _

_He turned away from her, his shoulders drooping. "Let me guess. She came to you wanting a divorce, and you listened to her, counseled her." He turned, angry again, his eyes widening with realization. "You found Seven a lawyer. Admit it." _

_She blinked in surprise and then swallowed. "Jeff Bartlett is an old family friend-." _

_"I knew it." His look of disappointment nearly broke her heart, and then he stepped around her, walking slowly away. "So that's the way things will be." _

_"What are you talking about? That's the way what things will be?" _

_He turned to face her. "You can't be friends to both of us." _

_"I want to be." _

_"You can't be that naïve." He shook his head, seeming to wilt in defeat. "Take care of her, okay? And be good to yourself in the process." _

_Janeway rushed to grab his arm. "You make this sound like goodbye." _

_"That's exactly what it is." He put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. "I'll give you and Seven all the space you need. You won't have to be a go-between any more." _

_"You'll come to the reunion." Although her words were phrased as an order, they hinted at the near panic she felt. "Please." _

_He rubbed his face with his hands. "We'll see. Right now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need to find a lawyer." _

_She watched him walk away, rooted to the floor by indecision. Should she should follow him and beg him to forgive her? Should she let him cool off and go to him later to apologize? She became aware of the other diners who were watching her, fascinated by the public spectacle she and Chakotay had just made. Embarrassed and confused, she rushed to the privacy of her office where she could be alone. _

_She went through the afternoon in a daze, finally deciding that she had been unfair and needed to make things up to him. However, when she tried to contact him after work that evening, she discovered that he'd vacated his apartment and resigned from Starfleet, leaving no forwarding address. The reunion arrived without Chakotay's attendance, and his absence had left a gaping hole in her life. _

_Two days later, she received a brief note asking her to let him go without any more fanfare. The divorce was uncontested, and soon, the waters closed behind the wake of his departure. _

She realized now that she'd been a fool not to pursue him that day. She should have sent Seven of Nine packing to her relatives in Sweden or, better yet, to the EMH, who loved her more than anyone else ever would. She should have let someone else, anyone else, suggest the name of a lawyer. She should have waited and listened to Chakotay's side of the story before she took any action at all. Because she hadn't been careful to remain impartial, her predicament was her own damned fault.

"No excuses," she muttered into the darkness. When Seven had appeared at her apartment that first day, Kathryn hadn't stopped to think about Chakotay sitting alone, rejected, in the apartment they'd shared. And when Seven had complained about the legal "complications" of a formal separation, Kathryn had written out the name and number of the only lawyer she knew, the one who handled the Janeway family problems, without thinking about the possibility of a divorce or remembering that Chakotay would need a lawyer, too.

Now, a year later, she could see that she had been cruel to ignore him in favor of Seven—on _Voyager_ and on Earth. Why hadn't she thought of how he must be feeling in the midst of all this turmoil? Why hadn't she taken a few minutes to leave him a message of comfort and understanding? Why hadn't she run after him that day and begged him to forgive her?

She'd sent a dozen messages to the Trebus Transport offices asking him to contact her. When none of those produced a reply, she'd written his sister, Liana, requesting that she forward the messages to him, but had still heard nothing. All she knew about his life came second-hand through other crew members who had gone with him to Trebus. By the time Chakotay missed the second _Voyager_ reunion, Janeway was determined to find a way to force him to talk to her.

When she heard that Starfleet had received a series of reports from an anonymous informer along the Cardassian borderlands, she'd known at once that those reports had to have come from Chakotay. The discovery of a thriving smuggling ring that dealt in the highly addictive drug called maraji crystal was something that Chakotay would feel obligated to report to the authorities, for it threatened the stability of the entire region. She knew that he was capable of doing so in a way that kept himself and his employers out of the limelight. That the smugglers were successful enough to afford to use Restaii fighters as protection was another sign of trouble. Based on technology brought from the Gamma Quadrant during the Dominion War, these fighters had forced Starfleet to revamp and upgrade their own tactical vessels. In a word, they were deadly.

Her eyes strayed to DS9, anticipating her upcoming meeting. Of course, Tuvok was watching her somehow. He knew the truth, even though he had never said a word out loud, knew about the intimacy she and Chakotay had shared on New Earth. He'd learned of it through their mind meld and their shared memory during their efforts to help the drones in Unimatrix Zero. She'd seen the flicker of concern in his eyes when she'd brought up Chakotay's name that evening, the same look she'd detected dozens of times in the Delta Quadrant. Surely, after all their years together, Tuvok knew that her feelings for Chakotay would not endanger their mission in any way. Surely, after all the countless light years they'd covered, he knew that Kathryn Janeway never let a broken heart keep her from doing her duty.

She checked the time, growing impatient for Kira to call her, hoping that the informant would be Chakotay. If he wasn't their visitor, then she would have to take matters into her own hands once their mission ended and visit him on Trebus. One way or another, she would make sure to find him and tell him how sorry she was.

For everything.

tbc


	10. Resolve

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 2.5 Resolve

**Jan. 16, 2380-The next morning**

**U.S.S. **_**Hankeel**_

"His name was Rette?" Tuvok asked, frowning, as Janeway kept her back to him, replicating a cup of coffee in her quarters. The informant had been delayed in his arrival, and so she'd ended up spending the night on the station, returning just a few moments earlier. "I'm trying to remember if I met anyone by that name while I was with the Maquis."

"You might have. He said he'd been in the Maquis while you were serving in Chakotay's cell." Janeway turned and took a deep draft of coffee, smiling with satisfaction. "I'm sure I've never met him."

"Yet he had the nerve to approach a Starfleet admiral, a complete stranger, with sensitive information that could put his life in danger?"

"I'm not sure it was 'nerve' as much as a mission that he accepted." She turned and strode to her desk, sitting down and leaning back with a sigh. "He'd been well briefed on what to expect from me. He answered every question I asked in admirable fashion and without hesitation."

"Briefed? You don't think Rette is the clandestine informant?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You know who I think the informant is."

"But he didn't say that Chakotay sent him to see you?"

"He referred to him as 'the boss.'" She frowned, "He did claim that he'd never heard of the Trebus Transport Company, but that might just mean that Chakotay contacted him directly, outside of his work channels. Kira has been unable to find anyone with his name in their records, which makes me suspect that he doesn't exist in our records, either."

She reached forward and activated her computer, slipped in a data chip that Rette had given her, and downloaded the information that was on it into her console. He knew, at once, that she'd while she had been on DS9 she had poured over the data. He said, "So Rette is not the person who actually took the scans of the drug ring."

She glanced up and shook her head. "No, I don't think so; for one thing, he never served in Starfleet, and whoever did these scans was once a Starfleet officer. I want you to look at the analysis he gave me of the scans. Look at the evidence, but also the format, the organization of the report, and the way the supplemental material is referenced." She chose a random PADD, downloaded the report into it, and then held it out toward him. "If the previous information was a clue, this is irrefutable evidence of the informant's identity."

While Tuvok read the report, Janeway settled at her desk and began to do some preliminary work on the course the _Hankeel_'s strategic shuttle, _Redmon_, would follow in its preliminary search for the smugglers inside the Badlands. She was still working when Tuvok looked up and said, "Chakotay obviously wrote this report."

"I thought so, too." She leaned back in her chair and picked up the mug again, her eyes focused somewhere over Tuvok's left shoulder. "It's in a Starfleet format, and, as I said last night, the search pattern he used is one we used routinely on _Voyager_ in later years. He didn't even try to disguise it from us."

"Indeed." Tuvok looked at the PADD again, a bit confused. "Why not?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps he heard that you and I were being assigned to work on this mission and wanted us to know the scans were bona fide. Maybe he knew that the Starfleet format would let whoever was in charge of the mission see that his analysis was systematic and authentic."

"Why didn't Chakotay deliver the information in person?"

"Good question. He's probably protecting himself, his employer, and his family from retribution." Janeway scowled as she set the mug on her desk and then looked up at him, her eyes betraying the disappointment she was otherwise careful to repress. "Or maybe he's still angry with me."

"It's unlike him to carry a grudge for such a long time, especially against you, and especially when doing so might complicate a potentially dangerous mission."

"I hope you're right. Let's just hope that if we need his help out there, he'll put his feelings aside and assist us."

"Do you think we'll need his help?"

"Tuvok, these scans show that these smugglers are hiding their main base of operations somewhere deep in the Badlands. Who knows that area better than the Maquis? Better than Chakotay?" She brought a trembling hand to the bridge of her nose. "I think we'll eventually have to go into the Badlands and smoke them out."

"Luckily, I, too, have extensive experience in the area."

"Luckily." She shrugged and picked up a second data chip that Rette had left with her, taking a moment to download the information it contained. After a moment, she handed it to Tuvok, as well. "This has more specific data on the smugglers—the ships they use, their usual routes, that sort of thing."

Tuvok scanned the screen and frowned. "They are brash in their movements, obviously unafraid of being caught."

"They've had no reason to worry—up until now—and they have to know we are here." She turned to her view screen and pulled up the most recent chart of the Badlands. "Near the end of the Dominion War, there were rumors of a Ketracel white plant being built in some of the worst areas of the Badlands. I'm thinking this might be what we look for first."

"Rumors?" Tuvok was not pleased. "Searching in that region is a dangerous task. It would be better to have a specific location."

"It was a tumultuous time, Tuvok. The best we have is a sector, nothing more specific."

Tuvok shook his head. "Before we can plan our attack, we have to know exactly where they are."

"That's why we're going to find it first."

"'We' are going to find it?"

"I don't want to risk more than a single ship and a small crew for the recon mission. I've looked at the reports from the war, and the best I can tell is that this plant is in the most volatile region, which makes sense."

"The smugglers are well funded. They will have an elaborate sensor system to warn them of approaching ships," Tuvok stated.

"Maybe." She shrugged. "I'm thinking there is a chance that they are letting the Badlands protect them—but either way, we will be careful."

"'We' will be careful," he repeated again.

She fixed him with a glare. "I'll be leading the mission."

"Admiral—"

She stopped him with a raised hand. "I want to see what we are up against, and I want to see it first hand. Captain O'Dell will be in charge of the actual mission, once we have the exact location, but I will not be persuaded to stay behind."

Tuvok crossed his arms over his chest. "I think that you are making a mistake."

"You are free to think whatever you want as long as you follow orders."

"You know I will, Admiral." Tuvok knew that this was only the first round of the argument. O'Dell would make a valiant effort to change her mind, and it might even become loud and vocal, but Janeway would not be dissuaded. She was tired of being behind a desk, stuck in Sector 001, and she would enjoy taking the Hankeel's version of the Delta Flyer, the _Redmon_, into the Badlands to do the reconnaissance. "And I will accompany you."

"Very well. Let's get started. Tell the captain I'll forward our first heading to the bridge by the time we leave the Bajoran system. Then, once we're underway, we'll meet and go over these wartime reports in detail."

"Aye, Admiral."

The door had barely closed behind Tuvok when Janeway's terminal chimed with an incoming subspace message. Irritated by the interruption, she checked its origin and groaned in frustration. Taking a moment to school her expression, she forwarded a preliminary course to the bridge and then activated the screen.

"Hello, Seven." She smiled at the young woman, but her efforts did little to lighten Seven's look of exasperation. In the weeks since Janeway had taken this assignment in deep space, Seven had been forced to cope with life on her own, and at times her emotions had been volatile, especially if she felt that her mentor was neglecting her. Janeway pressed on, "Is it Sunday morning already?"

"It's Sunday afternoon, Admiral, late Sunday afternoon." Seven raised a brow for emphasis.

Janeway closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Seven. I've been gone for two Sundays so far and have been late contacting you at our agreed-upon both days. Perhaps if I had an internal clock like yours, I'd do a better job of remembering when to call."

"I could assimilate you," she replied. "Then we wouldn't have to rely on subspace to communicate." Seven's expression softened as Janeway chuckled at the joke. "I'm sure you have another good reason for your oversight."

"I spent last night on DS9, so I wasn't here for the computer's reminder this morning," the admiral replied, relieved to see forgiveness in Seven's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, I understand. Ship time is quite different from planetary time," Seven gave her a charitable smile, her face lighting up and adding to her natural beauty. Janeway couldn't help but admire her, the full, luscious lips and blond hair, the bright blue eyes that now sparkled with good humor. Seven was becoming more and more human as time passed, a fact that Janeway found extremely satisfying. "Perhaps we should rethink our decision to contact each other in person and resort to recorded messages."

"That might be better, to tell the truth. I'm going to be even busier now that we're underway." She settled back in her chair as the ship's warp engines came online. "So, how are you, Seven?"

"I'm well. I've adjusted to your absence, and the work schedule here on Jupiter Station keeps me busy. I've also managed to familiarize myself with the idiosyncrasies of my coworkers."

Janeway smiled and wondered if she should ask how well her coworkers were adjusting to Seven's idiosyncrasies. "And the work? You're enjoying that, as well?"

"It's adequate for now. As you said, my main task is to establish an independent persona while completing satisfying work."

"And having some fun, Seven. You need to loosen up a little, make some friends."

A grimace of distaste accompanied a slightly strident tone in her response. "As I recall, you had very few friends and very little 'fun' on _Voyager_. I think that 'fun' is over-rated."

Janeway caught her breath and then held up her empty mug, grateful for an excuse to step away from the screen for a moment. "Hold on while I get a refill."

She moved slowly through the room, so similar to her quarters on _Voyager_ that she was oblivious to her surroundings. At some point in the last year, Janeway had become aware of a disparity between the person Seven of Nine perceived her to be and the person she really was. Seven idolized the Captain Janeway she'd first known, the Starfleet officer who had been as fixated on work and success as the Borg queen had been on the well-being of her collective. This was an accurate view of her life in the Delta Quadrant, since Janeway had seldom indulged in "fun and friendship," as Seven had pointed out.

Yet Janeway had worked hard to put that persona behind her since Voyager had returned. She had explained to the younger woman how miserable and frustrated she'd been while serving as _Voyager_'s captain, how much she'd missed having fun, how much she'd longed for friendship and personal contact. Hungered for it. Craved it.

During those seven years, she'd wished for an afternoon with other women, drinking coffee, talking about men, crocheting or knitting or baking cookies, trying out new clothes or new hairdos, discussing the most recent best seller. She'd dreamed of an evening with the guys, playing pool or throwing darts, trash talking, teasing, flirting shamelessly, telling ribald jokes, laughing until she cried. Oh, and she'd ached to touch bare skin and to feel warm hands exploring her body, to lie down and share her breath and her warmth with a man, to sleep while being held in strong arms, to let down her defenses and relish the feminine weakness and vulnerability that she allowed herself to feel when she opened herself to a man's advances.

She put her hands above the replicator and rested her forehead on the wall as the familiar Delta Quadrant despair washed over her once again. Loneliness. Solitude. Isolation. Endless duty and suffocating responsibility. Deep inside, Janeway was still struggling to overcome the damage done by her months and years as _Voyager_'s captain, and yet it was that skewed person that Seven most admired.

"Admiral?" Seven's disembodied voice came to her from across the room. "Admiral, are you still there?"

"Sorry, I'll be right there," she said over her shoulder, and then whispered, "Coffee, black." Sipping the drink, she returned to her desk, smiling as she sat down in front of the screen. "I apologize, Seven. I was sidetracked for a minute, maybe because I didn't sleep well last night."

Seven was concerned. "You're tired and distracted, and sleeping in an unfamiliar place. I should end this and allow you to rest."

"No, Seven, I want to talk to you about something important." She paused to think, absently running her finger around the rim of the coffee mug. "You often refer to my behavior on _Voyager_ as being the model for your actions."

Seven inclined her head slightly. "I frequently accused you of trying to make me conform to 'your image,' but I realize now that I was wrong. You were always fair and patient and allowed for my individuality, and for that I'm grateful."

"You're welcome, Seven. But you must remember that I was caught in an abnormal situation that called for atypical behavior. The woman I am now is much closer to my 'normal' self than Captain Janeway was." When she saw Seven frown slightly, she continued, "I like to have fun as much as the next person. In fact, I need to have fun, and enjoy having many friends."

"I never meant to imply that I wanted to be like you, Admiral."

"I'm not making myself clear." She sipped her coffee and then resumed. "Remember Shannon O'Donnell?"

"The relative that you mistakenly believed had been instrumental in the building of the Milleneum Gate."

"Right. I idolized Shannon-the person I thought she was-only to have that view of her ruined when I learned the truth about her life. I was afraid of how my Aunt Martha would react when I told her that she was wrong about Shannon. Imagine my surprise when Aunt Martha just laughed and brushed it off. She said that Shannon was a family myth that had inspired many Janeway women and would continue to do so. She said that in her experience we usually chose role models that have the strengths we admire and want to make stronger in ourselves."

"So, it isn't that we become like our idols, it's that we chose idols that fit who we are or are becoming."

"Exactly."

"And you think that as the captain on _Voyager_, you had many of the qualities that were strong in my personality."

"In many ways, I think that's true. I was isolated from most of the crew and obsessed by my goal, but I must have seemed very human to someone who was a former Borg drone. Many of my more carefree human qualities were repressed because of my position, yet I must have seemed quite independent and autonomous compared the life in the Collective."

Seven nodded. "I think I understand."

"I just want you to know that if I continue to change into someone you might not recognize, it's because I'm continuing to reclaim my former self."

"I understand." Seven had often accused _Voyager_'s crew of overemphasizing "frivolous" activities that were, in her opinion, an inane waste of time. Yet, it had occurred to her recently that such activities were actually a quite normal behavior for human beings. "I suppose I will also continue to change."

"I think so. You might think about being more lighthearted and playful. I want you to start valuing your free time as much as you do your work."

"I will try to do so."

Janeway gave her a wistful smile and shook her head slightly. "There's nothing wrong with just letting loose of your self control once in awhile, either."

Before Seven could reply, the ship's intercom activated. "Admiral to the bridge."

Janeway sighed. "That's my cue."

"Good luck in your mission, Admiral."

"Thank you, Seven. I'll try to remember to call you next Sunday morning."

"Call when you can, and I'll call you, if you forget."

"Thanks." The screen went blank as Janeway finished her coffee and stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her slacks as she stretched her back. It was gratifying to see Seven start to deal with issues on her own, and Janeway decided that she should take advantage of the young woman's burgeoning self-confidence and resume a more active private life of her own.

"But first," she thought to herself as she headed for the bridge, "I need to find a man with enough guts to put up with me."

She hoped she already knew the best man for the job.

In the meantime, she had a mission to plan.

tbc


	11. Regret

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 2.6 Regret

**Jan 19, 2380- Three days later**

**Trebus Transport Ship**

"You're sorry that you didn't go talk to Janeway yourself, aren't you?" Marla Gilmore had been watching Chakotay intently since they'd received feedback from Rette about his meeting with the Starfleet admiral. At the moment, they were pulling the graveyard shift on the bridge as their ship made its way toward Dorvan with a load of technological equipment and medicine, and she had noticed that Chakotay had been even more quiet than usual.

"I don't regret not seeing her." He gave Marla a quick glance. She had been on the bridge when Rette checked in and had no doubt detected his odd reactions to the man's report. "Rette gave her the scans she needs to follow up on and told her the information I wanted her to know. That's all that needed to be done."

She turned to check a panel and hide a smirk. "And that's why you grilled him about how she looked, whether she seemed to be in good health, how she was wearing her hair."

He shrugged, repressing a grin. "I admit that I worry about her. I was her first officer for a long time, and I know that she tends to neglect her health."

"You mean you were friends."

"I suppose so."

"But now you're not?" Marla knew that she was treading on thin ice, but she also knew that the crew was curious about the strained relationship between _Voyager_'s former command team and the way it seemed to weigh on their captain. It wasn't often that the topic came up, and she wasn't about to squander this rare opportunity to find out the details.

Chakotay was silent a long time, studying the helm readings as he considered her question. "I guess her friendship was one of the pieces of community property that Seven got in the divorce decree."

"Chakotay." Marla put a comforting hand on his arm. "I know Janeway got caught up in Seven's adjustment to being in the Alpha Quadrant, especially after the divorce, but I can't believe that she ever meant to end her friendship with you in the process."

"I don't think she meant to do it, either, but that's what happened."

"Rumor has it that she's sent you quite a few messages since we left Earth."

"That's none of your business." He scowled and gave her a stormy look. "I'm in no mood to discuss Kathryn Janeway with you or with anyone else, not now, not ever." He looked away, embarrassed at his outburst. When he continued talking, his voice was softer, apologetic. "And there's no way you could possibly know whether she's written me or not."

Marla crossed her arms across her chest in self-defense; she wasn't about to abandon her line of questioning. "You forget that I worked in communications at the warehouse when we first arrived at Trebus. I've seen a few of her messages arrive, and your sister told me about the messages she's received from her, too."

He groaned and shook his head in irritation. "My sister has a big mouth."

"All sisters have big mouths," Marla laughed, relieved that the tension between them had lessened a bit. "Maybe Janeway wants to make amends, maybe even apologize. Are you really going to turn your back on a friendship because of hurt pride?" She watched as Chakotay stood up and began to pace, and she wished he would trust her as an impartial listener; she was certain that he would feel better if he got it off his chest. "You know, Chakotay, we all need somebody to talk to. If you need a sounding board, I promise not to tell a soul about anything you tell me."

"Really?" He turned to her with a look of disbelief. "You know, Marla, from the first moment Kathryn and I met in the Delta Quadrant, we've been under constant scrutiny by the crew. I don't know what they expected us to do under the circumstances—well, maybe I did-but we managed to become really good friends, the kind of friend you make only once or twice in your lifetime. I treasured that, and I was willing to settle for it, but then Seven came along, and Kathryn's attention was focused totally on her. I felt neglected, rejected, replaced. More than once, I wished I'd sent Seven of Nine out the airlock with the rest of the drones."

"You and most of the crew wished that, I think," Marla smiled. "Seven was already there when I arrived with the rest of the Equinox bunch, so maybe you and the captain had started to drift apart already. I wasn't aware that the change was so dramatic."

"By the time we ran into Equinox, things had definitely changed." He nodded, his face thoughtful. He wondered whether she was aware of their three-month exile on New Earth, but decided not to mention it. "We were still friends, but not as close as we had been, and I missed that. I guess maybe that's why I eventually turned to Seven, to find someone to fill that empty place that Kathryn had left in my life. In many ways, she reminded me of Kathryn." He blushed and looked away. "I know that sounds silly."

"No, I can see the similarities, and I think yours is a very human reaction," Marla sympathized. "It was different out there. In the Delta Quadrant, I was still in Starfleet, part of _Voyager_'s crew, working on a state-of-the-art ship. Now look at me."

"What?" Chakotay laughed as he patted the helm affectionately. "Are you calling this ship a bucket of bolts?"

"Never to its face," she smiled in return. "But, everything changed when _Voyager_ got home, and it changed a lot more than any of us expected."

"That's the truth." He sat back down at the helm looking sadder than she'd ever seen him look. "It changed in ways I didn't expect."

Marla realized that the term Chakotay had used—"settled"—to describe his friendship with the admiral was very revealing of the potential that their relationship might have had. The crew had been fascinated with watching them, had been from the first, and Marla had heard dozens of stories about them, ranging from brief moments of affection to long periods of estrangement. Everything they did or said to each other came under close inspection, even toward the end of their journey when it would seem that the attraction had cooled.

"Would you mind if I made an idle observation as an outsider in this whole situation?"

"Go ahead," he sighed, seemingly resigned to an invasion of his privacy. "I know you want information, so we might as well get this over with."

"It seems to me that you and Seven have been fighting for Janeway's attention from day one."

Chakotay narrowed his eyes as he considered her words, obviously surprised that she hadn't delved into more private matters. "You're probably right," he admitted. "I was jealous of Seven's access to the captain from the first."

"It's only natural to resent someone who deprives you of time with a special friend."

"And you think that I became involved with Seven simply to deprive Kathryn of her?"

"That's the way it looks from the cheap seats."

"I don't think that's the reason."

"Well, I guess we also have to take into account Seven's obvious 'assets.' I don't think there's a man on the ship who would have passed up the chance to check out her very alluring body, not even the first officer." She grinned at his blush. "I'm guessing she asked you out?"

He was stunned. "Yes, she did. How did you know?"

"It just isn't your style to make a pass at a member of the crew." She gave him a wink and then snapped her head around as an alarm went off on the engineering console at the back of the bridge. "I'll check on that and be right back. Don't go anywhere."

While Marla was busy investigating the problem, Chakotay spent a rare moment consciously thinking about his relationships with Seven of Nine and Kathryn Janeway, realizing that he seldom thought of one without thinking of the other, as if the three of them were forever entangled. Troubled by Marla's comments, he asked himself whether he had become involved with Seven in an unconscious effort to hurt Kathryn, and he was afraid there was a grain of truth to the observation, as there was to the curiosity about Seven's ample "assets."

His father had taught him that the opposite of love was indifference, not hate, and he knew that since the divorce, he had been indifferent about what happened to Seven of Nine. Although he didn't wish her any harm, he honestly hadn't thought about her at all, leaving her care and well-being to Kathryn, who had so quickly stepped in and resumed her role as Seven's protector and mentor. Now, as he looked back over his year of exile, he wondered if he had ever loved Seven, at all, or if he'd just taken advantage of her willingness to become involved with him.

In the meantime, he had been anything but indifferent about Kathryn Janeway. All of the anger and resentment he felt during the divorce had been directed at her. In his most private thoughts, in the deepest recesses of his heart, he knew that he would never be indifferent about what happened to her. He might love her or hate her, be angry, disappointed, sympathetic, or elated, but he would never stop caring about her, never be apathetic about what happened in her life. Never. And the implication of that thought caught him completely off guard. He'd stormed away from her because he felt she'd let him down, and the reason that her betrayal had hurt so much was because he loved her. He realized that he probably always would love her.

"All fixed," Marla said as she returned to the copilot's seat, "but we'll need to set down on Dorvan and replace those sticky port injectors before we take on another delivery."

"Sure." He rubbed his face with his hands. "About using Seven to get back at the admiral? Maybe you should've been a counselor."

"Nah. I've seen this sort of thing happen too often on a ship. Three friends are getting along famously, all for one and one for all, and then everything gets screwed up because one of them starts feeling left out of the loop."

"It seems so childish."

"It's human nature," she reassured him. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'd like to think the three of us would find a way to get past this problem."

"According to everything I've heard from our friends on Earth, Seven seems to be distancing herself from the admiral these days. Last time I checked the _Voyager_ message board, she'd moved to Jupiter Station to work in Dr. Zimmerman's lab, and the admiral had been caught up in the Romulan mess. Now they report that she's off planet for a deep space mission—which we know is about tracking down these smugglers. It seems to me that there might be room for you in the admiral's life again, if you're still interested."

"And set myself up for another broken heart?" He laughed and checked the helm again. "I'm not that stupid."

"You should at least answer her messages."

"Maybe."

"Rette said she asked about our company and specifically about you. That shows that she still cares. What do you have to lose?"

"You have a good point." He gazed at the stars streaming by on the view screen, remembering the many long hours he and Kathryn had spent together, the jokes they'd told, the meals they'd eaten, the evenings they'd spent together in an effort to relieve the loneliness and pressure of their existence on _Voyager_. He didn't just love her, he missed her, and he couldn't feel worse than he already did if he discovered that she missed him, too. "I'll think about it."

"That's a start," Marla answered giving him a smile. Nothing would make her feel better than to know she had helped him find happiness. "What do you have to lose?"

He gave her a dimpled smile and focused his attention on the helm. When they returned to Trebus, he'd access the messages that had come into the transport office and download the letters Kathryn had sent to Liana. It was time to put the past behind them and find out what she was trying so hard to tell him.

For the first time in a long while, he was anxious to get home.

Tbc


	12. Desperate Measures

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 3.1 Desperate Measures

**Jan. 30, 2380-Two weeks after leaving DS9**

_**Hankeel**_**'s tactical shuttle, **_**Redmon**_**  
**

Kathryn Janeway was pleased with the mission's early success. After just two weeks of work, Hankeel's small fleet had apprehended a dozen smugglers and had filled an entire cargo bay with contraband. The trade lanes were already safer, and the transport companies were increasing their deliveries on a daily basis. However, Janeway was never one to rest on her laurels and was anxious to turn her attention to the rest of the problem—the discovery and elimination of the smugglers' Badlands base.

Each captured vessel had been impounded and its computer carefully studied for any evidence of having traveled through the Badlands. Computer cores were hacked and the ships' hulls put under a microscope, but none had turned up any evidence of having traveled in the Badlands' environment.

"Perhaps those smugglers are busy ferrying drugs into Cardassian space," Tuvok suggested, "and all we've apprehended are from smaller operations."

Janeway admitted that he might have a point. The Badlands' smugglers might focus on Cardassian space and travel in Federation space on an intermittent basis. They were discussing their next move when Captain O'Dell brought them good news.

"We confiscated a ship last night that had recently traveled inside the Badlands," she announced. "We're accessing its navigational history to see if we can find the base's coordinates."

Unfortunately, no coordinates were found, but extrapolating their recent point of egress from the Badlands brought them close to the Ketracel White region from the scans taken during the Dominion War. All they needed to do was confirm the base's location and get an idea of the level of defense they had erected around it. Janeway was determined to do that reconnaissance herself.

Captain O'Dell had not been excited about sending the admiral into the Badlands, but she had grudgingly given in after a series of escalating skirmishes. The discussion had been heated, but Janeway was convinced that she and Tuvok were best suited for the task. In spite of her reservations, Captain O'Dell had finally surrendered and let the admiral have her way. Janeway not only outranked her, she had a good point.

The _Redmon_ spent three days carefully approaching the base's suspected location, using plasma storms to shield their presence from the smugglers. Their pilot, Lieutenant Ryan Grey, proved to be a careful yet brilliant pilot in the same class as Tom Paris. When they located evidence of the Dominion's security net, they found a convenient hiding spot and located the base right where they thought they might find it—on a planet in a pocket of calm space. It was protected by the weak sensor net; the smugglers obviously believed the Badlands were enough protection and hadn't bothered to upgrade their defenses.

_Redmon_ kept a respectful distance and scanned the area as quickly as possible. However, their luck was not going to hold. Janeway was elated that their mission was successful and was already looking forward to returning and capturing the base.

Just as they were finishing their primary scan, Tuvok picked up a deadly Restaii fighter approaching from the distance, apparently returning to base from a delivery in Cardassian space. When the fighter changed course to intercept them, they knew they were in trouble. To make matters worse, Tuvok reported that a second fighter was powering up on the planet's surface.

Janeway's sense of triumph turned to alarm.

"We'd better get the hell out of here," she ordered, nodding toward a particularly active plasma storm on the view screen. "I'd say we'd be better off to go through that storm than around it."

"I agree," Ryan said as he turned to the helm. "Laying in a direct course and engaging at full impulse."

"Activate shields when you feel we need to do so, Tuvok," Janeway added as she settled into the engineering station and began monitoring the warp drive and inertial dampeners. "And, I suppose you have a full set of evasive maneuvers at the ready, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am." In the next few minutes, Ryan pulled every trick he knew in his effort to escape, but they soon realized that their pursuers were not going to be satisfied with simply chasing them away from the base; those fighters were hell-bent to destroy _Redmon_, and unless the admiral came up with a miracle, their lives hung in the balance.

"We knew from the first that we'd have to come into the Badlands to find the smugglers' main base," Kathryn Janeway shouted as the Flyer wove its way through the dangerous, swirling storms of the Badlands and dodged volleys of phaser fire from the deadly Restaii fighters that were pursuing them. "But I didn't imagine that we'd end up fighting for our lives."

Tuvok was too busy firing volleys at their pursuers to reply, and Ryan was completely focused on executing a series of evasive maneuvers at the helm. Janeway sat at the engineering console, struggling to keep the engines working and the shields powered. It was becoming obvious that they were not going to survive.

Tuvok said, "They do not intend to let us report their location."

"You may be right," Janeway replied through gritted teeth, "but I'll be damned if we don't complete our mission."

Ryan's face showed the strain of his constant effort to evade their pursuers. "Any suggestions?"

"I'm working on it," she answered, taking precious time away from her engineering duties to scan the region for a likely place to leave behind a message buoy.

"Initiating evasive maneuver delta-four," the lieutenant warned as the blue flash of phaser fire barely missed the hull and filled the cabin with blinding light. The ship strained to follow the helm, and, for a moment, Janeway feared that they might lose a nacelle in the process. When the shuttle righted itself, Ryan said, "They lost some ground that time."

"Why didn't we know the location of this abandoned facility?" Janeway wondered out loud as she worked. "Didn't Starfleet search the Badlands in case there was a Ketracel White plant in operation?"

"In hindsight, the location does seem obvious," agreed Tuvok, who was busy watching the fluctuating strength of the shields and returning fire whenever the fighters came into range. "But this is the worst part of an already dangerous region, Admiral, and the Dominion is in the Gamma Qaudrant."

"The facility wasn't operational," Ryan pointed out. "The Dominion started building it pretty late in the war, I'd think, and somebody would have had to come in here to find it—there is no other way—and that is a dangerous proposition."

Janeway sighed, thinking back to her first visit to this volatile hellhole, the trip that had resulting in _Voyager_'s being stranded in the Delta Quadrant. She smiled to think that her second visit was an even bigger disaster than the first had been. She took cold comfort in knowing that she probably wouldn't have to worry about what would happen to her on a third visit.

"No wonder the smugglers use small powerful ships," she said as their shuttle brushed a stray tendril of a plasma storm and lurched heavily to port. "These Restaii fighters are able to weave their way through these storms like a spider crossing its web."

Tuvok nodded. "They can, and the _Redmon_ is also able to navigate here, but the _Hankeel_ is much too large and slow. If we intend to neutralize their base, we'll have to modify our tactics and utilize several smaller, more maneuverable ships, perhaps Defiant-class vessels."

"That would work," she agreed, pausing to imagine the best way to approach the problem. "I'd say we should do just that when the time comes."

"You mean if we ever get out of here in one piece," the pilot replied in frustration, his face drenched in sweat. "Hold on. I'm looping back over that last storm so I can get us a little more maneuvering room."

Janeway felt her stomach heave as the inertial dampeners lagged behind the radical moves of the pilot's unpredictable course. His reckless backward loop gave them a few precious moments of quiet flight, during which time all three officers checked their panels and made adjustments against the moment that their pursuers reacted to their new vector and had them in their sites once again.

She thought back with satisfaction on how much work they'd accomplished in the two short weeks since she'd arrived in the area. The informant's data had been flawless and had tipped them off to the most destabilizing element in the region. Now, if they stayed in one piece long enough to pass on the coordinates, Starfleet could neutralize the threat in a matter of days. Her only regret was that she probably wouldn't be alive to see it happen.

"I'm preparing a message beacon that has the base's coordinates and a few suggestions for how to attack it," she decided, rapidly downloading the information and encrypting it into an inactive beacon that would power up in forty-eight hours. The _Hankeel_ should realize, by then, that the _Redmon_ had run into trouble as it would be twelve hours late in returning to the ship. "I'm going to eject the beacon with several large chunks of debris."

"Good idea," Tuvok agreed. "I suggest dropping it near the storm just ahead." He turned to the pilot, "If you get just a bit too close to the plasma, they may think the buoy is part of the ship that has been blown free."

"If you say so, sir." Ryan plotted a course and hoped they survived the maneuver.

Janeway programmed the beacon's delayed start. "Give me three minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan replied, using the short range sensors to find a storm with long tendrils of plasma that would serve their purpose.

"Ready," Janeway announced. The ship shuddered, the power fluctuating as the plasma wrapped itself around the port nacelle, and then it leveled out, reeling from the storm's power. Janeway jettisoned the beacon and debris just as Ryan steered the ship away from the storm at full impulse.

"They do not seem to have picked up the presence of the beacon," Tuvok announced a few moments later. "I would say that our effort was a success."

"Well, that's good to know, although it means the ships are still after us." Janeway clung to a shred of hope. "Let's hope that some of _Hankeel_'s people will be in here searching for us when the beacon activates."

Tuvok sat up straight at his console. "I'm picking up another fighter, Admiral, rapidly approaching from the direction of the smugglers' base."

"Damn. As if two weren't enough to do the job," the pilot muttered as he increased speed and then let out a long string of curses as the shuttle bucked beneath their feet from a direct hit. "Admiral, unless you can perform miracles, I don't how we're going to get out of this situation in one piece."

"There has to be a way." Janeway narrowed her eyes and gave Tuvok a look that he had learned to dread over the years. "What if we find a calm spot, somewhere that we can generate a warp field?"

Ryan turned to stare at her. "Go to warp in the midst of a plasma storm field? Is that even possible?"

"It's our only chance." Janeway was already light years ahead of him. "We need to pick a vector, go to warp, and hope we live to tell about it." She turned to Tuvok. "Toward or away from Federation space?"

The Vulcan simply stared at her. "Does it really matter?"

"They would expect us to go toward home," she continued, barely hearing him. "Let's head deeper into the Badlands, instead."

"You think we can punch our way through?" Tuvok's eyebrow shot up. "These are the most ferocious storms I've ever experienced. Chances are high that the storms will knock us out of warp and right into a storm."

"We can only bring them trouble if they let us live, Tuvok. They aren't going to let us sneak away and tell our friends about that facility. They won't take us prisoner, and they won't quit chasing us until we're dead." She gave him a determined look. "It's all or nothing, and, honestly, I'd just as soon die with my boots on than be tortured to death by smugglers."

"I'm with you on that one," Ryan answered.

The Vulcan shook his head slightly and turned to his sensors. It was clear that the steadily increasing phaser fire would destroy their shields, and there was no way that even the best pilot could evade three fighters. Every phaser hit and brush with the storms weakened their shields, and, once the shields failed, one well-placed phaser strike would reduce the shuttle to dust.

"There might be a clear spot along this vector," Tuvok said at last, giving in to the admiral's suggestion. "If we can swing around behind this storm, we can slow down long enough on the far side to generate a warp field before the fighters can catch up with us. Lieutenant, I'm forwarding a new heading to the helm."

"I have it," Ryan replied, tapping it in. "This vector will take us away from the rendezvous point with the _Hankeel_."

"And right through the densest part of the storms," Janeway agreed, looking up at the Vulcan for confirmation.

"It is the least likely vector for us to use in our attempted escape, giving us the added element of surprise. If we survive, we can hope that the _Hankeel_ will pick up evidence of our escape and find us before the smugglers do."

"How will they do that?" the lieutenant wondered. "We didn't tell them our plans on the beacon, did we?"

"We should leave a distinctive plasma trail," replied Janeway, her decision made. "Let's do it." She glanced at the pilot. "I can give you warp one for about thirty seconds, maybe a few seconds more. We can hope that it takes us out of the Badlands and into clear space on the far side."

"Here we go." Ryan's voice was a whisper. The ship lurched around the plasma storm and spiraled toward a small area of calm space.

Tuvok gripped the console as two powerful volleys from the fighters brushed their shields and sent a shower of sparks from a console to his left. "Our maneuver has surprised the fighters. It will take them a couple of minutes to catch up with us."

"Perfect. Dropping shields and using all available power to power up the warp drive," Janeway reported.

"Course laid in, Admiral. Ready to engage at warp one."

Janeway brought the warp drive online, struggling to keep it from redlining. She looked up, her eyes narrowed with determination. "All right, Lieutenant. Do it."

"Here goes nothing," Ryan muttered as he engaged the warp engine.

The _Redmon_ flashed into the distance, leaving its shocked pursuers staring at empty space.

Then one of the fighters powered up its warp drive.

tbc


	13. Bad News

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 3.2 Bad News

**Feb. 9, 2380-Ten days later **

**The Janeway Farm, Indiana**

"Go away!" Gretchen Janeway was locked up in her home and didn't want company. She'd shut down the chime of the communication unit and had put a pillow over her head hours earlier. Now her visitor had resorted to pounding a fist on the door. "Go away and leave me alone!"

Earlier that day, and for the third time in her adult life, Gretchen had opened the front door to find a Starfleet admiral and chaplain waiting to speak with her, their eyes filled with sadness. She'd been tempted to kick them off of her property without stopping for an apology, but her solid upbringing had kicked in. She couldn't be rude, but she could block the door and refuse to let them into her house.

"What's happened?" she demanded, gripping the doorjamb for all she was worth. "Has she been killed?"

"If we could come inside," the admiral replied, starting toward the door, only to come to a stop when he realized she wasn't budging. He stepped back a bit and glanced at the neighboring houses. "We have a private message for you."

"You can just tell me right here and now," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "I assume everyone else will know what's happened soon enough, once you finish informing the 'next of kin.'"

At those words, the chaplain took charge, his voice soft with sympathy as he handed her a small chip. "You might want to hear this sitting down, Mrs. Janeway."

"Frankly, I don't want to hear anything you have to say, whether I'm sitting or standing. What I want to do is slam this door in your face, Commander, and go on with my life." They just stared at her. "Let's get this over with. Please."

Through the rushing of blood through her ears, she heard "Badlands" and "disappeared without a trace" and shook her head in disbelief, as if she were experiencing "déjà vu all over again," to quote Phoebe. One of the men handed her an isolinear chip that she took without thinking, but then she cut them off.

"Stop! Stop!" She held up a hand. "This can't happen to Kathryn twice, gentlemen. You're a decade late with old news."

"Mrs. Janeway," the chaplain said, reaching toward her, his eyes sorrowful. "I know it's hard to accept, especially after _Voyager_'s disappearance in the same region a few years back, but—"

"I've listened to what you have to say." She pulled back from his touch, closing the door until she was looking at them through a narrow slit. "Please leave."

"Is there anything we can do?" the admiral wondered, shifting to see her eye through the tiny crack in the door. "Is there anyone else that we should contact? Is there someone, a friend, a relative, that you would like to have here with you?"

"Her sister, I suppose, though she won't believe you, either." The door clicked shut, and Gretchen sagged against it. "Who would believe it?"

She stood there for a while, trying to gather her thoughts, and then she had dragged herself up the stairs to her bedroom where she collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling, too shocked to think, or feel, or cry.

Now, she had no idea how much time later, she made her way toward the cacophony at the door, amazed to see that it had grown dark outside. According to the clock in the foyer, nearly six hours had passed since the admiral and chaplain had retreated. She was glad that she'd left the dog in the back yard and realized that he must be cold and hungry. The fact that he wasn't barking told her that her visitor must be someone he was familiar with.

"Gretchen!" The pounding paused and a face peered through the window beside the door. "Let me in! Gretchen!"

"Martha?" When Gretchen pulled open the door, she was assaulted by her sister-in-law and a very happy, hungry dog. "Zeus! Down!"

"Oh, darling, isn't it awful?" Martha cried, throwing her arms around her. "I came as soon as I heard about it on the Fednews."

"Zeus! Down!" Gretchen pulled the dog away from the older woman, using his collar to walk him toward the back of the house. "He won't settle down until he's had his supper."

Martha trailed along behind, talking non-stop. "When I heard the news about Katie, I thought it must be an anniversary story about _Voyager_. I mean, honestly, Gretchen, what are the chances of this happening twice? In the same area of space?

"I was at the club playing bridge with the girls and was just about to score a slam on Marcella and Regina, when Henry Markus came bursting in. You remember Henry, don't you? He was the captain of the Sarasota back when Eddie was the operations officer, and I swear he was sweet on me, although I never gave him the time of day.

"Well, anyway, Henry comes in and says, 'Damned, if that Janeway woman hasn't gone and done it again. Why in God's name did Starfleet let her near the Badlands after what happened before?' At that, we all laid down our cards and listened to the news, and that's when I knew I realized that I just had to come, darling, and be with you at this time of crisis. What's a slam when your family needs you?"

"Martha, please." Gretchen had put Zeus at "sit" and was busily fixing his dinner. "If you'd just be quiet for a moment and let me feed this poor animal, we can talk this over without the barking."

"What have you heard, Gretchen? What did they tell you?" She perched on a kitchen chair, anxious for the details.

"Just that she had gone missing." She put the dish of dog food on the floor and watched the lab begin to eat with his usual gusto. "I'm afraid I didn't ask for any details."

"Well, that's perfectly understandable. After such a shock, you could hardly think straight, much less ask cogent questions. I can't believe they left you here alone. Where's Phoebe? Have you called her?"

Gretchen wrung her hands, suddenly sick at her stomach as the first tears of the day filled her eyes. "No, I haven't called her. Oh, Martha, what if she heard about this on the Fednews? How could I not call her right away?"

"They probably found her before it was released, honey. Come on. We'll call her now." Martha was instantly at her side, taking her sister-in-law's weight on her shoulders as they walked toward the study. "I just heard the news an hour ago, so we might not be too late. Maybe she hasn't heard anything yet. Is she at home?"

"I think she's visiting friends who live on one of the lunar colonies, but I can't remember their names or which colony, either."

"It doesn't matter, darling, because we can use her mobile device." Martha settled her at the desk and pulled up a chair to sit beside her. "I assume her number is in the communications memory."

Gretchen stared at the blank screen, trying to imagine what she would say and how she would react when she saw Phoebe's face. She was trembling when she took Martha's hand. "Wait, Martha, give me a minute to collect my thoughts. I can't tell her when I'm in this state, not over the comm. I haven't even come to terms with it myself."

"Do you want me to do it for you? I will, you know, if it's too much."

Through her tears, Gretchen took in her sister-in-law's sympathetic face and realized that Martha had always been there when the family needed her, with her irritating habits on full display, of course, but she was there. Martha had been the first person to comfort her when her husband and Kathryn's fiancé had been killed, and she'd been a tireless cheerleader when _Voyager_ had gone missing, exhorting her to keep the faith until they knew for sure that Kathryn was really gone. She'd done all this and more, in spite of her own grief and with a running dialogue of inanity that filled the silence with much-needed distraction.

"Oh, Martha, what am I going to do?"

"Let's not panic yet." She pulled the sobbing woman into her arms and let her cry while she gently patted her back. "I was raised in a Starfleet family, remember? And we were always told not to give up as long as there was one shred of hope. The report said the she was lost. To me, that just means that they have no conclusive proof of what happened to her, and that means she might still be in one piece somewhere, just like she was on _Voyager_."

"But it sounds like they _have_ given up, Martha. It sounds like they've stopped looking for her."

"Did they tell you they've given up?" Martha stared at her. "Did they? Think!"

"No." Gretchen shook her head. "They didn't say they'd given up, but, then, I didn't really give them a chance to say anything."

"If they didn't say it, then maybe they haven't. They usually give people some preliminary information about the situation. Did they give you a report?"

"A report?" Gretchen pulled back to think, confused. "About what happened?"

"Maybe on an isolinear chip?"

"Oh!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin data storage device. "They gave me this."

"Let's look at it."

"Oh, I don't know if I can."

At her sister-in-law's hesitation, Martha wilted a bit, realizing that the report might include difficult details that would be hard to face just yet. "If you can't bear it, I can watch it alone and give you the highlights later."

"No," Gretchen took a deep breath. "I'll watch with you. I can handle it if you're here with me."

"Good for you." The older woman slipped the chip into the reader while she kept up a constant flow of chatter. "Don't be surprised if it's so sanitized that they say something like 'we looked and looked for her ship to no avail.' When Uncle Ian was lost in the Klingon War, all they told Aunt Elsie was that he was somewhere in the woods on Hallon V. They added a few scans that looked like a drunk spider's web and a couple of poor sods who reported that 'he was there one minute, gone the next.'

"Aunt Elsie was just about ready to rip two layers of skin off of the idiot who sent her that report, let me tell you, but then Uncle Ian walked out of those woods on Hallon V and did it for her." The familiar blue Starfleet screen came up. She reached over and took Gretchen's hand. "Here we go."

They listened as Captain O'Dell of a starship called _Hankeel_ reported that they had found a message buoy when Kathryn's shuttle had failed to check in as required. Kathryn had reported that her shuttle was under attack and suggested the best method for neutralizing the smuggler's operation. She indicated that several powerful Restaii fighters were pursuing them. _Hankeel_ had followed through on her suggestion and had subdued the smugglers with minimal fuss. During and after the operation, numerous ships had scoured the area for any sign of Kathryn's shuttle, but found no evidence of its destruction or its location. Since the ship was out-numbered and in a deadly region of space, Starfleet was considering the shuttle "lost in action."

O'Dell concluded, "In light of the volatility of the Badlands region and the relatively small size of the _Redmon_, we think any remaining debris was probably obliterated in the plasma storms that plague the region."

"That'll do," Martha huffed, shutting off the playback. "They're giving up on the search too soon, the idiots."

"How long is long enough?"

"They looked during and after the raid, she said. But the raid was more important to them than finding Kathryn's shuttle, don't doubt that. The time spent actually looking had to relatively short." She sat back in the chair, her blue eyes narrowed. "Where should we start?"

"Start with what, Martha? Are you thinking of borrowing a Starfleet vessel and taking over the search yourself?"

With a wicked smile, she answered, "More or less. I was actually thinking about getting a few cold, hard facts, and I think Owen Paris is the person most likely to help us. Katie was his protégée years ago, and she brought his son home in one piece. He owes us one."

Gretchen sat perfectly still, too surprised by Martha's words to move, but then she nodded, recognizing in her husband's sister the same fearless tenacity that had made her daughter, and all Janeways, such formidable Starfleet officers.

"I have Owen's contact information in my address book," she replied, pulling up the appropriate page. But before the information appeared, they heard Zeus erupt in his usual "welcome home" jubilation at the front door.

"Mom! Mom, where are you?"

"Phoebe. We forgot to call her," Gretchen breathed, tears filling her eyes. "How will I tell her about Kathryn?"

Martha patted her hand. "She's here because she already knows. Trust me."

Zeus bounded into the room just before Phoebe appeared. Behind her hovered a tall, fair-haired young man.

"Mom, I'm here about Katie." At the sound of Gretchen's half-sob, Phoebe quickly circled the desk and put her arms around her mother, letting her cry on her shoulder. She looked up and said, "Hi, Aunt Martha. You remember Tom Paris."

Martha's face lit up. "That's who you are! Owen's son!" She approached him to shake his hand. "I'm Martha Janeway O'Reilly. I first met your parents decades ago." She looked up at him and took his chin in her hand, moving his head to the right and left as she examined his face. "Thank God you got your mother's looks."

"Thanks, I think." Tom laughed. "Nice to meet you, too."

"We were just about to call your father and complain about this so-called 'search' for Katie's ship."

"Great minds think alike, I guess," Phoebe smiled, pulling away from her mom, but leaving an arm around her shoulders. "You must've just read that same pitiful excuse of a report they gave me."

"What a joke," Tom interrupted. He'd knelt down to pet Zeus, who was now on his back enjoying a tummy scratch.

"I just happened to be visiting a Tom's sister, Amy, when the 'dynamic duo' from Starfleet showed up," Phoebe explained. "Amy had me call Tom."

"And I called my dad." Tom stood up. "He's just as unhappy as we are with the brevity of the search. He says Starfleet is 'satisfied with the findings,' but he isn't, and he wants to use some non-Starfleet personnel to continue the search."

"Who would that be?" Gretchen asked.

"Some of _Voyager_'s crew who live in the region."

"They'd help us?"

"Yes, ma'am, they'd do anything for Admiral Janeway. Dad's going to get copies of the reports and scans from the search, and then we'll send the data to our friends in the region so they can pick up the search where Starfleet left off. He said he should have the information in a couple of days."

Martha nodded. "Who, exactly, are we talking about out there?"

"The former Maquis who served with Katie, of course," Phoebe answered.

Gretchen took Tom's arm and looked up at him with hope in her eyes. "Do you think there is a chance that she's still alive?"

"I think there is more than just a chance."

Martha interrupted. "And who, specifically, are you sending to look for her?"

"I thought maybe Chakotay. He works in that area and would be willing to search for them, I'm sure," Tom answered.

"Chakotay? That adorable first officer from _Voyager_?" Martha's eyes lit up with excitement. "How romantic!"

"You read too many romance novels," Gretchen said, rolling her eyes.

"Novels have nothing to do with it," the older woman insisted, giving Phoebe a quick wink. "It's just that I recognize a good story when I hear one."

TBC


	14. A Plea for Help

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 3.3 Determination

**Feb. 11, 2380-Two days later (Twelve days after **_**Redmon's **_**disappearance)**

**Trebus**

The Fednews had been covering Starfleet's successful Badland's raid on the maraji crystal processing lab for the last three days, showing pictures of the smoking remains of the facility and the mug shots of over a dozen smugglers who had been captured in the process. Fednews was known to edit their coverage depending on the area of space that was receiving the news, and Chakotay heard a great deal about the success of the mission and the elimination of the threat to navigation and very little about Starfleet vessels or personnel who had been involved in the mission. There was a brief mention that Admiral Kathryn Janeway had discovered the location of the lab and then had gone missing, but nothing more definite about her status was forthcoming.

Chakotay didn't think much of that omission until _Hankeel_'s Captain O'Dell was interviewed as the ranking officer instead of Admiral Janeway. He worried about what they weren't saying—what had happened to the admiral in charge, and the reporters' vague references to minimal Starfleet casualties made his blood run cold. Chakotay thought he might learn more specific information if he contacted someone on Earth. He decided that at first light, he would contact someone still in Starfleet and ask a few discreet questions.

His alarm had just gone off when he heard the distinctive chime of a priority message arriving on his computer. He threw on a robe and sat down at the computer, shocked to see that the message was from Seven of Nine. They hadn't spoken to each other in over a year, and when her face appeared on the screen, he found it impossible to form a proper greeting. Not only was he surprised that she had contacted him, his heart was gripped by an ice-cold fist of fear.

This couldn't be good news.

"Chakotay?" she asked, alarmed at the look of shock on his face. "I realize that it's early morning on Trebus, but I felt it was important that we talk as soon as possible."

"When you want to talk, it's important." Chakotay swallowed hard as a familiar flare of anger raced through him. "A year ago, when I wanted to talk to you, you wouldn't give me the time of day."

She blushed and looked away. "I need to apologize for my behavior. When I terminated our relationship, I was unable to find a way to explain to you how I felt. I can see now that I acted in a very selfish and immature fashion. I should have tried to make you understand instead of hiding from you like a child. I hope that we can someday regain some fraction of our friendship."

He was about to tell her that they had never been friends and that they probably never would be, but he suddenly found that it didn't really matter. Except for his anger at the way she'd left him, he felt no real emotion at seeing her again. Instead, he said, "Maybe someday we can."

"However, this is not the reason I've contacted you."

"No, you wouldn't call me just to apologize, not at this hour. Something has happened to the admiral, hasn't it?"

"I'm afraid so. I asked the others to let me inform you personally, before you heard the details over the news channels. The three of us have been friends for a long time." She looked away again, took a deep breath, and then cleared her throat. "You have heard the reports of the recent mission in the Badlands?"

"It's all anyone is talking about around here."

"Then you have heard that Admiral Janeway is missing. She and two other officers, Tuvok and a pilot by the name of Ryan Gray, did not return from a reconnaissance mission that was done prior to the capture of the processing station."

"Missing?" He repeated the word in amazement. He tried to imagine how an admiral could have gone missing before the facility was raided. "They're _missing_?"

"That's what Starfleet is telling the family. They disappeared somewhere near the most volatile area of the Badlands."

"Is it possible that the smugglers kidnapped them?"

"We don't think so. When the admiral's ship located the smugglers' base, they were attacked by several Restaii fighters and were caught in a running battle with at least two other ships."

"Let me guess. They were in a shuttle. In the Badlands." He shook his head in amazement.

"They were in the _Hankeel_'s version of the Delta Flyer, a tactical vessel called the _Redmon_. We don't know why the smugglers discovered them, but we know that they came after them aggressively."

"Of course, they did. There weren't about to let a Starfleet vessel return and report on their location."

"At some point during the battle, the _Redmon_ disappeared and is presumed lost." She told him about the beacon that had contained the smugglers' coordinates, jettisoned with a delayed activation program. "That is all the debris they found."

He felt slightly dizzy and cradled his head in his hand. "Just that much? They haven't found evidence of the ship's destruction? No larger field of debris?"

"No debris so far."

"That's why they're listed as missing and not killed?"

"Yes. Starfleet hasn't been able to confirm or deny that the shuttle was destroyed, but it's been nearly two weeks since they were last heard from-." Seven looked miserable.

"Two weeks." Chakotay sat back in his desk chair and let the facts sink in. _Voyager_'s top officers had been through so many close calls in their years together and had survived so many along the way that he'd stopped believing that any of them could be the victim of a disaster. "They searched the region around the message buoy's location?"

"Yes, they did a scan when they recovered it, but the smugglers were already mounting a defense."

"So they did a quick scan and found nothing."

"Correct. They claim that any debris would have been obliterated by the severe storms and the battles that occurred in that region of the Badlands."

"I guess that's possible, but not really," he chuckled, shaking his head. "The Maquis pilots used to call that area the 'Worstlands.' But, even so, I'd think there would be some sign of the ship, Seven. They just have to know what to look for."

"I was hoping you'd say that." She paused, obviously working up the courage to ask her next question. "Would it be possible for you to look for them?"

"I don't know why you think I could find them if Starfleet couldn't."

"Because you know the Badlands better than they do," Seven insisted. "And because you won't give up until you find out what happened."

He turned and looked out the window of his cabin with a sigh, knowing that Seven was probably right. He knew that Kathryn would never give up this quickly if a member of her crew had gone missing. In fact, she'd been adamant about searching for any missing member of the crew in the Delta Quadrant, refusing to leave a single person behind. "I guess I've probably earned some time off."

"Is that a yes?" Seven asked, her face full of hope. "I can't tell you how much this would mean to her family, Chakotay. They don't want to believe that they've lost her again."

"That's a yes. I owe her and Tuvok that much and more."

"Good! Later today, Starfleet will announce that they are officially listed as missing in action and presumed dead, but we're hoping that you can find some definitive answers."

"I just hope I find good news and not just debris."

"Either way, we want to know for sure." She looked away, her blue eyes glistening with tears. "If anyone could find a way to survive, it's the admiral."

"I agree." He hoped she couldn't see the tears that were burning in his eyes, as well. "You said that Admiral Paris was compiling information from the mission?"

"Yes. He's obtaining as much information as he can."

"Be sure he sends me those initial scans, the ones they took when they first found the message beacon. I'm guessing the jettisoned it at the last minute, and whatever happened next has to have happened nearby."

"I will inform him of your request."

Chakotay grew thoughtful. "I have some contacts in the region. Maybe someone picked up an anomalous reading that could give me some idea of where to look for the shuttle."

"I should be forwarding the data in the next few hours. It will be a large amount of data."

"I let the transport office know that it's coming. We'll be ready."

"We'll be waiting to hear from you, Chakotay. All of us will be. We still think of her as our captain, and we don't want to lose her."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

She paused, unsure of how to continue. "I know that at one time, you and the admiral were very close. I want you to know that she tried hard to convince me that I should communicate with you about our relationship. She never had anything but good things to say about you and was very upset when you left the way you did."

He nodded, not trusting his voice enough to voice a reply.

"I'll send the information right away."

"Thanks, Seven. I promise to do my best to find the shuttle."

"That's always been good enough. I wish you the best of luck in your search."

"I can't promise any miracles."

"Just find out what happened. That's all we ask."

Once Seven signed off, Chakotay tried to come to terms with what he'd learned. He tried to imagine what might have happened to the shuttle as it sped through the Badlands' most treacherous region. Every possible outcome was bad, and so he decided to do something constructive. He decided, instead, to listen again to the messages that Janeway had sent him over the last year.

He had been disappointed to discover that the messages she'd sent to the Trebus Transport Company had been deleted from their system. The good news was that the three that she'd sent to him through his sister were still intact. In the first two, she talked to him about _Voyager_'s crew, informing him of their assignments and activities since his abrupt departure; she speculated about what he might be doing and quietly asked him to write her, ending each message with an apology for neglecting him during his brief marriage and divorce.

The last message was longer and had been sent just before she'd taken on the Badlands assignment. Her tone had been resigned, as if she despaired of his ever listening to message, and he felt sad because he'd been so obstinate about refusing to hear what she had to say.

"I know you're angry with me," she said, in the familiar deep tones he knew so well, "and I don't blame you for that. It must've seemed to you that I took Seven's side no matter what she did, no matter who was at fault, when the truth was that I was torn in two. I felt bad that she treated you with careless disregard, and I did everything I could to make her stand up and face you.

"I guess, after all we'd been through together, I didn't believe the lines of communication would ever close between us, and I want you to know that I'm paying dearly for that mistake. I miss you, Chakotay, and I want to make amends for what I've done." She took a deep breath, and then changed the subject.

"In the meantime, it seems I'm heading out toward your part of the galaxy. I know that transport ships are hardly able to face down drug smugglers and that you can't afford to help us track down the 'bad guys,' but I could really use your insight into the region, especially in contacting individuals who might have some inside information-not to mention the danger zones I should avoid. I'll let you contact me if you feel comfortable with that. If not, I'd still like to see you and catch up on what's new in your life.

"I haven't been the friend that you deserve, but I want to change that. I hope to hear from you soon, or better yet, I hope to see you while I'm in the area."

When the message ended, Chakotay sat in front of the blank screen for a long time, thinking about what he could have done to help her survive her trip into the Badlands. There were some tricks that might have enabled her to find the facility while escaping detection, tricks that Tuvok hadn't learned in his six months with the Maquis. He certainly could have given her some advice about avoiding that particular region of the Badlands.

He'd let her down.

Feeling morose, he replicated a large mug of coffee and went out onto his patio to watch the sunrise. He'd been a fool to ignore to her messages when they arrived. His refusal had been a petty and childish reaction to Janeway's typically maternal approach to Seven's adjustment problems. He should have expected her to react the way she did, should have shrugged it off and waited for their lives to return to normal. Instead, he'd thrown a fit and wandered off to pout like a spoiled child.

He shook his head, refusing to lie to himself any longer. His problem wasn't with Seven. It was with Kathryn Janeway, and it always had been. He'd become involved with Seven in the first place because he was angry with Janeway, angry at her continued refusal to consider having a relationship with him while they were in the Delta Quadrant. He'd resented the time she'd invested in helping Seven of Nine adjust to her new life, and he'd deliberately decided to replace her as Seven's champion and advisor, especially once they'd returned to the Alpha Quadrant.

When his life had come apart in his hands, when Seven had walked out on their marriage and left him in the lurch, he should have known that she would turn to Janeway for help. After all, Janeway had been responsible for freeing her from the Collective and had been her primary mentor for the previous four years. Where else would she turn? Who else would she depend upon? Only a fool would blame Janeway for what had happened, for thinking she'd come between him and his wife, when he and Seven had placed her squarely between them through their own actions. The way she'd reacted had been totally consistent with her previous behavior.

"I should have been the one who met with her on Deep Space Nine," he chided himself. "I should have helped her plan that reconnaissance mission. I should have been with them on the _Redmon_." He forced back the wave of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him and glanced up in the general direction of the Badlands. "If you're out there, Kathryn, don't give up. I'll find you."

Tbc


	15. Plans

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 3.4 Plans

**Feb. 13, 2380-Two days later (Fourteen days after _Redmon's_ disappearance)**

**Trebus**

Chakotay looked up from his computer console to see his sister standing at the doorway holding a large gift wrapped in sparkling pink paper and topped with a huge polka dot bow.

"Liana? What's going on?" Mindful of the Starfleet sensor data on his screen, he quickly minimized it and gave her a smile. "This is a surprise."

"Well, it shouldn't be a surprise. I reminded you earlier this week that I'd be coming to Trebus to attend the naming ceremony for Trista's baby."

"I'm sorry. I'm so preoccupied that I don't even remember your telling me about it."

"That's okay. I put your name and mine on this present, just in case it slipped your mind." She crossed the room to his desk, where she put the gift on one chair and sat down on the other. "You've been obsessed with the news of the raid that broke up the  
Badlands drug ring, right?"

"Right. I've been reading everything I can about it."

She studied his face, sensing that he was in tight control of his emotions, trying to hide his pain from her. She forged ahead. "You heard that Admiral Janeway and Tuvok are among the Starfleet personnel declared missing?"

"I heard." He found that he couldn't sit still any longer, so he stood up and began to pace.

"The reports this morning say," she paused, worried about how his reaction, "that they are-."

"I know what they say. That they're presumed dead," he snapped, and then turned to her. "I'm sorry, Liana. I shouldn't take this out on you."

"Don't worry. I understand."

"I'm not giving up hope yet."

"You think they might be alive?"

"God, I hope so." His eyes were tortured. "If they've been killed, Liana, I'll never forgive myself."

"I don't see why you should blame yourself for their predicament." She watched his face turn red with embarrassment, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Or maybe you do feel responsible for some reason."

"In the last letter she sent to you, she asked me for advice about this mission to the Badlands. Of course, I didn't read it in time to be of any help to her."

"Helping her would have put everyone here in danger. I thought that was why you were trying to keep from being identified as the informant." She put her hand over her mouth when she realized what she'd said.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You were right when you accused me of sending my sensor scans to Starfleet. Somebody had to do something to stop the smugglers."

"I suspected as much." She watched him as he resumed his pacing. "But, what more could you have done besides send the scans to Starfleet? You couldn't be expected to help plan the raid, so you shouldn't feel guilty if things went wrong."

"You don't understand, Liana. I should have helped with planning the raid. I had experience and knowledge about the Badlands that might have kept her and Tuvok safe. Everyone knew that was where the smugglers had their base, and the scans confirmed it. I knew her mission would take her into those plasma storms, some of the worst I've ever seen. I could have helped her find a way to do the reconnaissance without getting caught in such a dangerous area."

"But then the smugglers might have attacked Trebus and Dorvan."

"I don't think so, not really. I could have simply gone to see her as a friend, and no one would have suspected that I was doing anything more than catching up with her. After the years we were together on _Voyager_, it would have been perfectly natural."

"You aren't the only person who's navigated the Badlands, Chakotay. I'm sure she had access to all the records from the Maquis and from the Dominion War, too."

"Scans aren't the same thing as actual experience. I could've helped. I should have helped."

"You aren't in Starfleet anymore."

"Kathryn wasn't asking her first officer or even a fellow officer for input. She was asking her friend." He turned away, gazing out the window toward the sky. "I didn't even bother to listen to her messages until it was too late, Liana. If I hadn't been behaving like a spoiled child, I might have been able to prevent-." He put his forearm on the window frame and rested his forehead on it. "They might not have been lost."

Liana moved to his side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "So, because you are so obsessed with this, I assume you're going to do something about it?"

He sighed and shook his head, giving her a bashful smile. "Is it that obvious?"

"That's what you were working on when I came in, wasn't it?" She walked over to the computer and swiveled the screen to face him, tapping a key that brought the Federation shield back onto the display. "You've pulled strings and managed to get some information about their disappearance."

He shrugged, embarrassed at being caught and yet relieved that he didn't have to hide it from her. "I owe Kathryn and Tuvok my life, ten times over."

"And they owe their lives to you, too. You shouldn't feel obligated to go to their rescue every time they get into a scrape."

"It's not just that. I have to know what happened, Liana. I can't live my life wondering whether I might have been able to help them survive."

She slumped into his desk chair and drummed her fingers on the desktop. "Some of the smugglers might still be out there, you know. They might be biding their time, waiting to exact their revenge on whoever happens along."

"I think that's highly unlikely. Starfleet's raid was pretty thorough, and there hasn't been any sign of any other smugglers from their ring for nearly two weeks."

"This time the Badlands might finally get you."

"I'll be careful."

"Starfleet has better ships with stronger shields and sensors. Why not just leave the search up to them?"

Chakotay perched on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. "They've been looking for days without any luck and have already ended the search. But, they don't know the Badlands the way I do, especially not this particular region."

"Chakotay, the ship was lost days ago! How long can they survive out there?"

"Starfleet ships carry emergency rations and battery power to last about ten days to two weeks."

Liana clucked her tongue. "Why risk your life when the odds are against their being alive?"

"Look, sis," he said, understanding her concern for his safety. "I have to do this. I owe it to them to try to find them. And, nothing is going to happen to me. I'm going to be fine, and I promise that I won't disappear for another seven years."

"Why can't you just say they were lost in the Badlands and leave it at that?"

"Because I can't. There are M-class planets in and around the Badlands where they might have taken refuge. They might survive on one of those planets for weeks. Even months."

She buried her face in her hands, knowing he would not be dissuaded from his quest until he found the ship or its debris field. His loyalty to _Voyager_'s crew, and particularly to its captain, was something she'd come to respect over the last year. She looked up at him, hoping he couldn't see how close she was to tears. "Just tell me you aren't going alone."

"Mike and Marla volunteered to help me." He grabbed a chair, sat down beside her, and activated the view screen, bringing up a complex scan of space that looked like an abstract puzzle to Liana. "The buoy that they left behind was found here. I figure a good pilot could keep the shuttle in one piece until about this spot before their shields started failing." He created a sphere around the buoy's location.

"Uh-huh," she answered, wondering whether she should remind him of how rudimentary her knowledge was when reading these kinds of scans.

He pointed at some squiggly lines. "I thought, at first, that Kathryn might have been at the helm, but now I'm not so sure. Whoever the pilot was, he's almost as good as Tom Paris, and that's saying something. But, he got himself into a fix when he headed into these particular storms and was clearly in trouble. The storms are just too thick, and they were boxed in. They couldn't keep away from these fighters much longer, which means that their choices were really limited."

"Hasn't Starfleet searched in the area where the buoy was found?"

"Oh, yeah. They have, but, you see, Kathryn left it and then headed away, taking the smugglers with them to keep them from destroying it."

"I thought you said they'd run out of choices."

"They ran out of the choices that a sensible person would opt for, but this situation called for thinking outside the box, something that Kathryn is very good at doing."

Liana frowned. "Which means what?"

"Staying put was a guaranteed death and so was continuing the battle, so their only hope would have been to find a relatively clear vector and go to warp."

Liana's mouth fell open. "Go to warp in that part of the Badlands? Even I know that's practically suicide."

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, giving her a sad smile. "But they had no choice with those Restaii fighters closing in on them. They would have been okay as long as the warp field wasn't compromised by the storms. It came down to a choice of certain death if they were captured or a slim chance of survival by going to warp."

The two of them stared at the screen in silence. At long last, Liana said, "Can you tell what direction they might have taken?"

"I was working on it when you arrived. There were a couple of possibilities. I want to look at the storms once I get out there and try to imagine which vector would have been more appealing."

"Doesn't a ship leave some kind of trail you can pick up on sensors?"

"In normal space, yeah, but the plasma storms in the Badlands quickly destroy them. Add to that the number of ships that have crisscrossed the region during the raid and then the search afterwards? Well, it's going to take luck to find anything after all this time."

"Too bad you don't have access to the first scans they made of the region."

"You're good, Liana." He grinned at her. "My friends have sent me those scan. There might be some clue they've missed, and if there are, we'll find them."

"I'm surprised that Starfleet hasn't looked at this angle."

He chuckled. "They probably thought trying to use the warp drive was too risky."

"Isn't it?"

"Yes. Unless you're Kathryn Janeway and running out of options."

"So why wouldn't Starfleet look into that more closely?"

"I was told that Starfleet dismissed the possibility of going to warp because, and I quote, 'Admiral Janeway would never risk her ship or the lives of her crew by going to warp in the Badlands.'"

"But you think she would?"

"You bet she would. It was their only chance." He shook his head and chuckled softly. "_Voyager_ would never have made it back to the Alpha Quadrant if Kathryn hadn't taken a few death-defying gambles along the way. In this case, when it was a choice between certain death at the hands of the smugglers or a slim chance for survival by going to warp, she would've rolled the dice with gusto."

"And if her luck ran out?"

"That's the question that remains to be answered. I won't quit, Liana, until I know for sure what the answer is."

"Well, okay then." She stood up and retrieved her package from the chair. "I take it that this means that you aren't attending the naming ceremony?"

"Not this time." He sat back down at the desk and opened the data file. "With any luck, we'll have the company's shuttle equipped for the Badlands by the end of the day."

"If I don't see you before you leave, big brother, be careful. Come back in one piece."

"Yes, ma'am." He looked up at her, surprised to see tears in her eyes. He got up and circled the desk to give her a hug. "I'll be back, Liana. I promise."

"I can't lose you again, Chakotay. You're too important to me."

"You won't lose me." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dried the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. "Don't worry. I'll keep in touch."

"You'd better." She gave him a final hug and then left the room.

Chakotay stood motionless for a few moments, and then said to his absent sister, "You see, Liana, I know how you feel. I lost Kathryn once, and I can't lose her again. She's too important to me."

And with that, he returned to his plans.

tbc


	16. The Search

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 4.1 The Search

**Feb. 15, 2380-Three days later (Seventeen days after **_**Redmon's **_**disappearance)**

**Trebus Transport ship**

"Did you read the full report on Starfleet's raid, Chakotay?" Mike Ayala lounged in the cockpit of the transport company's personnel transport studying the data that Admiral Paris had sent them by way of Seven of Nine. "They took out three Restaii fighters with just a handful of those new tactical shuttles of theirs—the ones that incorporated a lot of the Delta Flyer's upgrades. I'd love to have a chance to fly one of them." He frowned and paged through the report again. "I thought the smugglers had four fighters."

"They did have four fighters," Chakotay replied from beneath a disassembled console. "The missing fighter is why we're taking the time to upgrade our shields and add a phaser array."

"As if that will help," Ayala laughed at the thought of their little ship running up against a Restaii fighter. "You know as well as I do that we wouldn't have a chance."

"That's why I had Marla upgrade the sensors, too. With any luck, we'll see them coming in plenty of time to get out of the way."

"And if the sensors don't work well enough?"

"Then we won't have anything else to worry about in this life."

"Good point."

They worked in silence until Chakotay crawled out from under the console. "Phaser control is online," he announced as he replaced the access panel and activated the screen for a final diagnostic. "As soon as Marla is happy with the upgraded shields, we'll get underway."

Their ship was larger than a shuttle, yet small enough to negotiate the Badlands' storms. A modular design, it's nacelles and engineering deck formed a sling onto which a variety of pods could be attached, depending on the type of cargo being carried. In this case, a three deck pod had been added, with a deck for the bridge and a fairly sophisticated sickbay, one for crew and guest quarters (more than enough for six people) and a mess hall, and a smaller deck for cargo that dovetailed with engineering. it wasn't as pretty as a Starfleet ship, but it provided the flexibility that the transport company needed in such a ship.

"I've found something interesting here." Mike looked up from the report as Chakotay came to have a look. "This is one of the earliest scans Starfleet took, taken just after they detected the buoy's beacon. See this little blip? That could be what's left of an ion trail. I've seen them look like that after the plasma storms have messed with them."

"I completely missed that, Mike, but you're right." Chakotay took the PADD and sat down, tapping a few commands into the device. "This ion trail wasn't made by a Starfleet warp engine."

"It wasn't? Damn." He rubbed his face with his hands. "I had my hopes up."

"Unless-" Chakotay's voice betrayed his excitement. "If it isn't Starfleet-."

"Maybe it was made by the mission Restaii fighter."

"Yeah. Maybe that's what happened to the fourth fighter, Mike."

"They followed the Starfleet ship into warp?" He whistled. "Those guys meant business."

"Well, that's just one plausible explanation. Load the coordinates into the computer and we'll start our search there. Also, try to extrapolate what their vector might have been." He felt the first tiny spark of hope settle in his heart. "Can you imagine being desperate enough to go to warp in the worst part of the Badlands?"

"Sounds like something a crazy captain I used to know would do," Ayala said with a grin.

"Doesn't it, though?" Chakotay slapped Ayala on the shoulder. "The woman is fearless."

"I can't believe that Starfleet disregarded the possibility of her going to warp to escape."

"They don't know her like we do, Mike."

It took the better part of a day for the shuttle to travel to the Badlands and thread its way through the storms to the site where Starfleet had discovered the buoy. One quick scan of the area dashed their hopes of finding any evidence through current scans.

Ayala sat back in despair. "Starfleet must've used every ship in quadrant looking for them, Chakotay. Between all the ship's traffic and nearly three weeks of storms, that faint trail I saw in the initial scan is long gone."

Chakotay was more depressed than Ayala. "Have you had any luck extrapolating the direction they took from the scans?"

"Not really," Ayala shifted to face him. "I can come up with a general vector from the first Starfleet scan, but if we start at the wrong spot or if we miscalculate, even by a few millimeters, that might not be much help."

"Because our course might veer too far from theirs over the long haul." Chakotay frowned, knowing his friend was right, but unwilling to give up. "I'm thinking they'd jettison the beacon and then go to warp right away to keep the smugglers from noticing."

"Maybe. They also might have jettisoned the buoy and then continued the chase to lead the smugglers away from it. There's really no way to know."

"Let's start with the assumption that the warp trail starts at the buoy's location."

"Okay. I don't mean to be overly pessimistic, but it's all such a big gamble."

Chakotay raised a hand to stop him. "I know. And I also know that the storms probably knocked the beacon around in the intervening days, which means that the shuttle wasn't any where near here when they took off. It's a long shot, Mike, but it's the only shot we have. If you have any better ideas, I'm listening."

"I just think it's better to stay realistic about how chancy this search is from the first." He gave his friend a warning look, hoping he knew better than to get his hopes up of ever finding them.

"You're right, and I'm trying to stay on an even keel. We'll just follow this course for now and scan out as far as we can, looking for anything that tells us how close we are to the right track."

"Okay. Maybe we'll be lucky."

As the ship went to three-quarter impulse, Chakotay adjusted their sensors and then said, "You know how hard Kathryn would work to find one of us."

"I know, Chakotay." Ayala turned to his console to monitor their course. "Believe it or not, this isn't a bad vector when you look at the pattern of the plasma storms. Heading away from Federation space and into the worst part of the Badlands would certainly have taken the smugglers by surprise."

"What was it Kathryn used to say when things were looking dicey? 'Think good thoughts.'"

They knew it could be several hours or even days before they'd find any sign of the Starfleet ship or the fighter that pursued it. Theoretically, it was possible for a warp bubble to exist inside the Badlands for a short period of time, and if Janeway's shuttle had only managed a minute at low warp, they would have been millions of kilometers when they re-entered normal space. Chakotay wasn't about to go attempt warp speed, and so they would need much more time to travel the same distance.

As hard as he tried to be patient, Chakotay became more restless with each passing hour. Mike navigated around the plasma storms that flared up along the way, and Marla came up from engineering to recalibrate the sensors, leaving Chakotay with little to do but fret. He would relieve one or the other of them for a few minutes and then feel compelled to get up and check the impulse engines or consult a map of the Badlands. Mike and Marla soon realized that their work went more smoothly when he was out of their hair.

"Why don't you go get some sleep, Chakotay," Marla suggested. "Mike and I will be fine for awhile."

"Okay," Chakotay agreed, standing up and stretching. "Let me know right away if you pick up anything unusual."

"Will do."

Once he disappeared to the lower deck, Mike and Marla slumped in their seats.

"I'm worried about him," Marla said softly. "I can't remember seeing him quite so anxious."

"He knows the odds are stacked against finding them. He's scared to death we're going to find a debris field instead of a shuttle."

"Yeah, but, Mike, even if the shuttle is in one piece, chances are the crew will be dead. It's been too long—over two weeks."

"I know." Mike shifted nervously in his seat. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure which I'd prefer-the debris field or the shuttle in one piece with its grisly cargo."

"There's the chance that they found somewhere to land. Janeway and Tuvok are survivors. If anyone can get through something like this, they can." Marla leaned forward to make a minor adjustment to the sensor settings and then sat back to wait. Two hours passed in absolute boredom, but then the console emitted a series of insistent chirps. "Mike, I'm getting some readings."

"Send the coordinates to the helm," he responded as he sat up and plotted the most direct course possible to the location. When the readings grew stronger, he decided it was time to wake up Chakotay. He opened a comm link and said, "Chakotay, you'd better get up here. Long range sensors have picked up some readings that look promising."

Minutes later, with Chakotay kneeling between the pilot and copilot's seats, they approached a badly damaged, drifting hulk that used to be a starship. Their disappointment at finding a wrecked ship was reflected in their silence as they watched the hulk drifting through space.

Chakotay looked up from the readout and said, "It's what's left of the fourth Restaii fighter."

"Another mystery solved." Marla continued scanning the wreckage, reporting what she was seeing as it became clear. "They must've ejected their warp core, because I'm not picking up any sign of antimatter. They've also lost their atmosphere." A few tense moments passed before she added, "There are three bodies inside, but I can't tell anything about them except that they're all dead."

"The storms got them." Ayala positioned their ship so that they could examine the extensive damage on the port side. "They picked a bad time and worse place to drop out of warp."

"Pure bad luck." Chakotay stood up and straightened his leather jacket, his face pale with anxiety. "We'll have to find out if anyone from the Starfleet shuttle was on board before we continue the search."

"I don't recommend beaming over there," Marla said. "I'm not sure it's safe, and I don't think we need to bother with wearing environmental suits at this point."

Chakotay nodded. "Okay. We'll beam the bodies aboard our ship and keep them inside a force field. If we recognize anyone, we'll deal with it. If we only find smugglers, we'll beam them back to their ship for now."

The cockpit was silent as Ayala followed his orders, setting up a force field in their cargo area and locking onto the bodies. Then he said, "I'll go down to the cargo hold and make sure things are set up properly. Once I know the force field is in place, you two can beam the bodies in for a quick look."

"No, you won't," Chakotay replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll do it."

Before either Mike or Marla could voice a protest, Chakotay stepped to the hatch and disappeared below.

Marla gave the pilot a long look. "Get us close enough to do this without interference from the storms, and then go down there and be with him. I don't want him to be alone when I beam those bodies over here, just in case—well, you know why."

"Yeah, sure. Good idea."

Chakotay had just finished checking the containment field when Ayala appeared at his side. He gave him a sideways look. "Aren't you supposed to be piloting the ship?"

"We're going to be stationary for awhile," Ayala replied, "and there isn't a plasma storm close enough to do any damage at the moment. I thought I could be of more use here."

"All right," Chakotay answered, his voice betraying his relief. "I have to admit that I'm a little worried about what we're going to see. Or who we're going to see."

"You're worried that the smugglers might have already taken prisoner?"

"It's possible." After one last check of the containment field, Chakotay hit the comm button, "Marla, energize whenever you're ready."

"Stand by."

Moments later, a familiar blue glow filled the room and three humanoid bodies appeared on the floor of the cargo hold, each one frozen in a position of agony caused by a sudden loss of atmosphere. Chakotay found it impossible to move or to take his eyes from the sight.

"What a way to go," Mike whistled as he flipped open a tricorder and began to study the readout. "No females. One human, two Bajorans. No one as young as the Starfleet pilot." He snapped the device shut. "I'd say these were all smugglers, Chakotay."

Chakotay gripped the edge of the console as the tension drained from his body. "I think you're right, Mike."

Marla's voice filled the room. "So, who are they?"

"Three dead bad guys," Mike answered. "Beam them back to where you found them. When we get back, we'll tell Starfleet where they to find them."

The two men watched as the bodies disappeared and then stood staring at the vacant cargo bay in stunned silence.

"Look at it this way, Chakotay. Tuvok knows how to force a pursuer to drop out of warp in a dangerous location. Drop a torpedo with a delayed detonation so that they're been knocked out of warp and into the storms. Oldest Maquis trick in the book. It means we're on the right track. Don't you see?"

"That's about the only good way to look at it, I guess. I just keep remembering how long they've been gone. Too long. I'm afraid we're going to find debris or a sad mess like this."

Mike frowned, trying not to give in to the doubts that assailed him. "They could have found a planet nearby."

"That's the only good solution that I can see." Chakotay ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Before we get back on course, let's do a really thorough scan for habitable planets in the area and search for any impulse signatures. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Will do."

After Ayala returned to the bridge, Chakotay busied himself with taking down the force field before he finally slumped against the wall in exhaustion. His heart had almost stopped beating when the bodies had materialized on the cargo bay's deck, and he'd been unable to move a muscle while Mike had scanned them. He wondered what would've happened if Mike hadn't come down to help him.

Would he have stood there like a statue, unable to move, until Mike or Marla came down to the cargo bay to see if he was still alive? Even now, minutes later, his heart was pounding in his chest. How much worse would it have been if he'd discovered that either Kathryn or Tuvok was among the dead? Would he have fainted? Thrown up? He shook his head in misery. He knew he had to find a way to deal with whatever they found—when they found it.

After checking with the bridge, he returned to his cabin for a few minutes of rest and meditation. Soon, he'd get the call that something else had been detected, another debris field or a marginally habitable planet, and when that moment inevitably came, he had to be ready to live through it.

tbc


	17. A Sign

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 4.2

**Feb. 16, 2380-Four hours later (Seventeen days after **_**Redmon's **_**disappearance)**

**Trebus transport ship**

Chakotay awoke with a start and checked the chronometer, amazed to see that almost four hours had passed since they had left the wrecked Restaii fighter behind. A quick call to the bridge informed him that Mike and Marla had been working steadily on the search, so he spent a few minutes taking a quick shower, changing into clean clothes, and having a bite to eat before he reported to the bridge.

The excitement and anxiety of the wrecked ship had left him exhausted and completely unnerved, but now, after a few hours of sleep, he was able to think clearly again. He'd been surprised by the intensity of his reaction to the debris and the grisly view they'd beamed aboard. He'd seen dead bodies many times, even those of close friends and fellow officers, but this experience had been different, a bigger, more personal crisis, for one simple reason—Kathryn Janeway might have been one of the dead.

He cared too much. He shook his head in amazement. How many years had he obsessed and worried over her well-being without becoming a blithering idiot when she was in danger? Why would he panic about her now, when he had walked away from her without taking the time for a proper farewell? The disparity between his actions and his feelings disturbed him, because he felt certain that it meant that he had been deceiving himself for some time.

All this just increased the pressure he felt, as did the fact that so many of their friends and acquaintances were hoping and praying that he would find her alive. The prospect of telling them that she was dead sent cold chills down his spine. The subspace call he had received from Gretchen Janeway haunted him, coming as it did immediately after Seven had sent him the details of the Starfleet raid and rescue effort.

He'd just finished his first scan of the report and was realizing what a daunting task he faced when his sister had told him that Kathryn's mother was calling.

"_I'll take it in here," he replied, replacing the details of the report with his comm access. When Gretchen's face appeared, he was once again surprised to see how much Kathryn resembled her mother—and how much that similarity affected him. He gave her a confident smile. "Mrs. Janeway! This is a surprise." _

"_Hello, Chakotay, and please call me Gretchen. Seven tells me that you should have received the reports she forwarded to you, and I just want to make sure that it was complete and that it arrived in good condition." _

"_I just finished scanning it, and it looked like it must all be here. I have lots of information to go on." _

"_Good. Owen and I had to pull quite a few strings to get those admirals to release the information to a 'non-Starfleet' recipient. It took some doing, but didn't want them to withhold a single byte of data." _

"_It's a very large report. I can't imagine that they cut many corners." He gave her a reassuring smile, imagining how those poor admirals had reacted to a Janeway in full "command" mode, whether that was as a mother or a fellow officer. "I promise you that I won't leave a stone unturned in looking for them." _

"_Oh, I know you won't." The older woman looked away, and Chakotay took the opportunity to examine her face more carefully. She had obviously lost a great deal of sleep in the last few days. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy, as if she had cried herself to sleep for several nights in a row. However, when she looked at him again, she was calm and unemotional, her mind focused on the possibility of finding and rescuing her daughter. He admired her for having such self-control; he could see where Kathryn had gotten that strength. "Kathryn obviously trusted you with her life, Chakotay, and she had great faith in your ability. That and your location make you the best person to be looking for her and the others, because time is of the essence. You won't give up until you know for sure what's happened, will you?" _

"_No, I won't give up. If there is any way to discover what happened to them, Gretchen, I'll find it. And if she's still alive, which I believe is a distinct possibility, I'll find her and bring her home." _

_Gretchen's eyes filled with tears as her self-control slipped. "We just can't lose her again, Chakotay. It would be too cruel." _

"_If any two officers are capable of surviving a situation like this, it's Kathryn and Tuvok. They're well trained and resourceful, and they've faced many similar predicaments." _

"_It's so ironic that you're looking for them this time, the way she was looking for you and Tuvok on Voyager so many years ago." _

"_More than ironic," he agreed. _

"_When you find her, please make her talk to you. She told me that she wanted to apologize to you for how she treated you during your divorce." _

"_She doesn't owe me an apology." _

"_She thinks she does." Gretchen wiped her eyes with a tissue before she continued. "She's told me more than once that you helped her keep her sanity on Voyager when things looked bleak. She never meant to hurt you." _

"_I know that. I really do. I should have been more open with her before I left." He wished he could reach across the light years that separated them to give her a hug. _

"_How long will your search take, do you think?" _

"_It's difficult to tell, but I know we have to move fast. I'd say no more than a week. Maybe two." _

_She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes once again. "They say that their emergency rations would be running out soon." _

"_I know. That's why I'm trying to get underway as soon as possible." _

"_Then don't let me keep you." She gave him a brave smile. "And thank you so much for finding the answers, no matter whether they're good or bad. It means everything to me."_

"_Don't give up hope, not yet." _

"_I'm trying not to, but it's difficult." _

"_Kathryn never gave up hope, in all the years we were on the other side of the galaxy, so we can't give up hope, either." _

_Gretchen nodded and said goodbye, but the shadow of her courageous blue eyes had haunted him ever since._

He finished his meal slowly, trying not to let himself become discouraged, and then he climbed up to the bridge where he found Mike Ayala alone at the helm.

"Where's Marla?"

"She went below a couple of hours ago for some sleep."

"Good. You should have called me to come help you."

"I would have if I'd needed help."

"Fill me in on the search, and then you can go below and get some rest, too."

"Yeah." Mike stifled a yawn. "We started by following the same vector as before, but decided, after an hour, that they might have changed course when they fell out of warp. So we went back to square one and started a classic search pattern."

"I see that."

"I've expanded the search parameters and dropped to one-quarter impulse, but I can't help but think we've missed something."

"You should've come and gotten me," Chakotay replied, taking a seat at navigation. He pulled up the charts and studied their course. "We don't have time to waste."

"Have you ever been this deep in the Badlands, Chakotay?"

"Once or twice."

"Not me. I realized a few minutes ago how far we've come, and I got a strange feeling. We are actually close to some fingers of normal space on the far side of the anomaly."

"Normal space." Chakotay looked up at him. "You know, you may have hit on something." He studied the chart, his mind going over a dozen possibilities for what might have happened to the Starfleet ship, none of which was to his liking. "Obviously, the shuttle wasn't destroyed by whatever it was that got the Restaii fighter, but that doesn't mean that they escaped unharmed. If they were damaged but still able to control their course, they might have headed for clear space."

"Not back toward the _Hankeel_?"

"Not if they were severely damaged."

"I guess that's possible," Mike nodded. "Let me start from where we found the Restaii fighter and plot out the shortest route out of the storms."

"They were probably damaged during the battle before they went to warp," Chakotay said, thinking out loud. "How much longer could they have kept things together?"

"You're thinking they might have had to crash land somewhere?"

"Maybe. When we get closer to the border, we'll start scanning for the nearest planet that would have been a likely place to land the shuttle. In the meantime, you need to get some sleep, too."

"All right. But call me if you find anything."

"Will do."

Several hours later, Mike and Marla returned to the bridge to find the ship emerging from the Badlands into clear space.

"Any luck so far?" Marla asked.

"There's no decent M-class planet, but there is one L-class planet that might have looked decent enough in a pinch," Chakotay pointed to the location on the star chart.

Marla and Mike glanced at each other and shook their heads. L-class planets weren't all that hospitable and were considered "barely habitable." While they had breathable atmospheres, they did not usually support any sort of animal or vegetable life. The Starfleet crew would be reduced to their own emergency supplies and, if they were lucky, water on the planet itself.

"The planet is awfully close to the plasma storms," Mike observed. "It might still be brushed by remnants of the storms, too."

Marla agreed. "I'd say the climate would be pretty tough to endure."

"I guess it would be better than nothing," Chakotay sighed, "and it's the only place close enough."

"It's worth a look. I'll lay in a course." Mike took over the helm and put in the new course.

Marla couldn't help but worry. "If that's where they landed, wouldn't we have picked up their emergency beacon by now?"

"If it's still functional," Chakotay replied. "Although there is a beacon in the emergency pod, it could be damaged, and so could the one on the ship itself. If we find evidence that the ship is there, we might have to find them with our sensors."

"Good thing we upgraded them," Marla said, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

The cockpit was quiet as Mike guided the ship carefully through the last tendrils of plasma flares. He glanced at Chakotay and said, "I hope they had a decent pilot. This is tough going."

"He was supposed to be the _Hankeel_'s best."

The next ten minutes passed in tense silence as their ship wound its way through the last vestiges of the storm, finally emerging into relatively clear space.

"Bingo," Marla cried, barely restraining her excitement as she pulled up the most recent scan on the screen. "See the ion trail?"

Chakotay's heart was in his throat. "I see it, but it looks nasty. Really nasty."

"We didn't expect it to look good, did we?" Mike asked, making a few adjustments to their course. "I mean, they've been pounded by those fighters, gone to warp in the worst of the Badlands, endured the buffeting of the storms, and then tossed into normal space at a time and place that was not of their choosing."

Chakotay agreed. "I imagine that that L-class planet looked like heaven itself to them."

They followed the ion trail until it curved into the planet's gravity well at a deep angle.

"Their approach vector is too steep. I think this pilot had marginal control, and the ion trail indicates impending complete engine failure."

"Yeah, look here," Marla pointed out an area of space that still roiled from an antimatter explosion. "They ejected the core."

Chakotay sat back and shook his head. "It would take a miracle for them to survive a crash at this speed and trajectory."

Even though he agreed, Mike didn't want his boss to give up hope. "They might have had enough power to manage an emergency beam out. Let's get into orbit and find out before we write them off."

Twenty minutes later, Marla let loose a string of Klingon phrases that she could only have learned from B'Elanna Torres. "The ship went down here," she reported, narrowing the scan of the planet to a region that looked like an orange blur. "The trail ends in this desert region, but it's completely obscured by a sandstorm. I can't tell if they landed in one piece or if the ship broke up in that sandstorm."

"That's one hell of a storm," Chakotay agreed, his voice somber. "It looks like it extends nearly five miles into the atmosphere and has surface winds blowing at over 130 miles per hour at the surface."

"It would feel like you'd been caught in a sand blaster," Mike murmured. "Let's hope the ship is together enough to protect them from this environment."

"Or that they found some safe place to wait for help," Marla said. "From what I can tell, the desert is surrounded by low hills that might have caves and canyons with protection from the elements. There are even signs of water."

"We can't do anything more until this storm eases up." Chakotay rested his head in his hand.

"What if it doesn't ease up, Chakotay?" Mike wondered. "Can this ship survive going to the surface?"

"I don't think so, Mike. I'm going to monitor these conditions for a while and try to see if there is a chance for the storm to ease up. Why don't you two go below and find some food? We're going to be here until that sandstorm lets up and we can scan for survivors."

"We'll bring you a sandwich," Marla said as she and Mike headed to the galley.

Alone in the cockpit, Chakotay focused the sensors on the most likely crash location and forced himself to relax.

"Whatever happened has already happened," he said to himself. "Worrying now is just a waste of time."

He worried anyway.

tbc


	18. Final respects

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

A/N: Please note that events in this chapter occur three days prior to the preceding chapter (Chakotay was still on Trebus at this time)

Part 4.3 Final Respects

**Feb. 13, 2083-Three days earlier (Fourteen days after **_**Redmon's **_**disappearance)**

**Surface of the L Class planet**

Kathryn Janeway stood at the foot of a low bluff, the gathering winds of the desert heat ruffling her hair. From Tuvok's position slightly above and behind her, she was a dark silhouette against the slanted golden light of the late afternoon sun. He could barely hear her voice as she concluded the simple Starfleet memorial ceremony, using the same familiar words she had always used on such occasions.

"We are here today to pay our final respects to our honored dead, Lieutenant Ryan Grey. He was a fine Starfleet officer and a good friend. Without the benefit of his level head and excellent piloting skills, we would never have arrived safely on this planet. His sense of humor, self-sacrifice, and positive outlook will be sorely missed. As we commit his body to this planet, we will keep him in our hearts and in our memories."

Tuvok watched as Janeway placed a final rock on the grave, noticing that she caught her breath and nearly tipped over as she put weight on her left hip. Her injury was bothering her much more than she'd let on, and the ordeal of helping carry and bury the lieutenant's body had taken its toll. He made a mental note to confront her about the pain at the earliest possibility. She seemed small and vulnerable as she stared at the mounded rocks in silence, no doubt sending up prayers to whatever god she believed in. She was stronger than she looked, both physically and emotionally, but their continued bad luck was undermining her spirit and weakening her hope for a rescue.

He cleared his throat to gain her attention, nodding toward the swirling sand in the flatlands behind her. "Admiral, I'm afraid this burial has taken longer than we anticipated. We must leave at once if we hope to get safely inside the cave before the night winds begin."

"Very well," she replied, glancing toward the sunset that was already growing rosy red with blown sand. She turned and took the arm he offered her as they began the walk into the canyon where a deep cave had served as their refuge for the last ten days. "It's just that I don't want to give him up. He was so young."

"Too young to die," Tuvok agreed.

"He reminded me of Tom Paris, a natural pilot, with the wisdom to toss aside safety constraints when the situation called for it."

The first blast of the fierce night winds battered them with a brutal spray of sand, stinging their faces and bringing tears to their eyes. They stopped and pulled the hoods of their survival jackets over their heads before they resumed their journey at a faster pace, their faces tucked down into their chests to minimize their exposure to the elements. Janeway seemed unstable, even with her hand on his arm, and so Tuvok stayed close beside her, giving her his body to lean against whenever she needed to do so. He glanced down at her face, catching a brief grimace of pain.

"Your hip is not improving."

"No, it isn't." She sighed, and shook her head. "I thought it was better until I started gathering the rocks for Ryan's grave. I should have let you do that, but I knew we needed to hurry."

Tuvok paused to look up at the sky, drawing on their brief experience to guess at the storm's severity. "If the weather pattern continues as it has before, we should have one decent day after today. If tomorrow is calm, I will walk to the crash site while you rest in the cave. Perhaps I'll locate the rest of the emergency supplies or find a cache of rations."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"We cannot hope to repair the damaged emergency beacon with the supplies that we have found in the debris field, Admiral. A journey away from the bluffs and toward the main crash site is our best option."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed, but I'd be surprised if you find anything of use."

"Then let's hope you are surprised."

She said nothing in reply as she continued to struggle through the shifting soil that filled the bottom of the canyon. She knew it was a miracle that any of them had survived their desperate escape maneuver, but as time passed with diminishing hope for rescue that miracle was looking more and more like a curse.

_The _Redmon_ slowed after it passed the plasma storm and struggled to create a warp field in the Badlands' hostile environment. Their jump to light speed a few moments later was uncharacteristically rough, and three officers clung to their stations as the ship hunched beneath them. _

"_Warp one!" Ryan announced, hanging onto the helm with one hand and making frantic adjustments with the other. "We can't keep this up for long, though." _

_The tension on the bridge deepened when Tuvok announced that one of the larger Restaii fighters had also gone to warp speed. _

"_They really want to make sure we don't talk," Janeway commented._

"_The smugglers are at warp one on a parallel course," Tuvok reported. "We should prepare to raise shields."_

"_Damn. That's going to affect our speed." Janeway continued to fiddle with the engineering console, coaxing the warp field toward stability. "What are our options?"_

_The Vulcan's voice was deadly calm as he made some calculations. "I've always understood that the best defense is often a strong offense." _

_Janeway nodded, anticipating his suggestion. "A full spread of torpedoes—before they think of the same idea." _

"_Indeed. The explosion will likely throw both of us back into normal space." He looked up at the admiral. "But, unlike the smugglers, we'll be prepared for it." _

"_Very well, Tuvok, let's do it," she nodded. "Lieutenant, prepare to deal with an explosive reentry into normal space." _

"_Ha. Normal space? In the Badlands?" He had managed to regain his seat, "Is it too much to hope that we might aim for something other than the middle of a plasma storm?" _

"_Probably." Janeway grinned. "I'll put you in charge of that." _

"_I should have known." He turned back to the helm. _

"_The smugglers are powering their phasers," Tuvok warned. "Torpedoes armed and ready."_

"_Raise aft shields as soon as the torpedoes are away, Tuvok." Janeway took one last look at their wavering warp field, hoping for the best. "Fire." _

"_Firing torpedoes, full spread," Tuvok replied. "Shields up." _

_With any luck at all, the force of the blast would hit their shields and push them away from the smugglers' ship, providing a cushion against whatever happened next. However, the blast could just as easily bring on their own destruction. Janeway held her breath as the seconds passed._

"_Brace for impact," she cried, gripping the edge of the console. _

"_Three, two, one," Tuvok counted off. _

_The explosion was the worst Janeway had ever experienced, augmented as it was by their volatile environment. By some miracle, _Redmon_'s shields did not buckle, allowing them to momentarily hit warp two before their warp field began to destabilize. _

"_Our pursuers have sustained catastrophic damage and have dropped out of warp," the Vulcan reported. "I believe they are attempting to eject their core." _

"_That's one problem solved, anyway," Janeway observed as she turned her attention to the direction the ship was taking. "Ryan, how much longer can we maintain our warp field?" _

"_Ten seconds. Maybe twelve. I'm looking for a good place to exit, but it isn't going to be pretty." _

_Tuvok said, "Sending you suggested course correction." _

"_Thanks, Commander." _

_Seconds later, the Redmon emerged from warp speed and tumbled into a spiral. Ryan struggled to regain control of the ship, but the damage was too great. It became clear that they would have to abandon ship. _

"_We can't use escape pods amidst these plasma storms. We need to find a planet," Janeway warned, "and something close."_

"_Scanning," Tuvok reported. _

"_I have marginal control," Ryan stated as the ship leveled. "However, the warp core is going critical." _

"_I'm ejecting the core," Janeway assured him. _

"_Scanning," Tuvok replied. "We will have to conserve power in case we need to transport to the planet's surface." _

"_Noted. Assuming we find a planet." Janeway took comfort in the fact that Captain O'Dell had made sure the _Redmon_ carried three emergency pods with enough supplies to keep them alive and well for six weeks. While Janeway had thought it was a waste of time, she was going to have to thank O'Dell when and if she saw her again. Given their remote location, they'd need that and more if they hoped to survive until Starfleet found them. _

_The ship lurched and seemed to shudder. _

"_Hold on!" Ryan shouted. "Attempting to regain lateral control!" _

_The next hour of their lives had been harrowing. They'd managed to direct their dying ship toward the edge of the Badlands, locating a Class L planet that promised to provide adequate life support until they were rescued. _

_Tuvok warned, "This vessel will not survive in one piece to the planet's surface, Admiral." _

"_I know," Janeway replied. "I'm setting up an emergency beam out. We'll stay aboard as long as possible and then beam ourselves and the three pods out." _

"_Don't cut it too close," Ryan warned. "The transporters won't work if the ship is out of control."_

"_Noted," Janeway replied. _

_The ship bounced twice against the planet's atmosphere and then began to come apart at the seams. _

"_Too soon!" Tuvok called out. "Our speed and altitude are not optimal for a beam out."_

_Janeway gritted her teeth. "We're going to have to hope for the best." _

_They could actually see the _Redmon_ breaking up around them as the transporters locked onto their patterns, automatically calculating the vector of the crash and depositing them out of range of shuttle debris. _

_They rematerialized on the flat surface of a butte while overhead they watched the fragments of their ship glow and fall through the atmosphere like a strange fireworks display. The winds were punishing, forcing them to put their arms over their eyes. _

"_We made it!" Ryan cried, glancing around at his fellow officers. "I don't believe it." _

_Janeway simply nodded. "I only see one emergency pod." _

_Perhaps because of the damage the _Redmon's _computer had sustained or a lack of sufficient power, only two of the three pods had been sent to the surface. While all three of the crew and one pod had arrived on solid ground, the other pod arrived on the unsteady soil near the edge of the bluff. That pod had pludmmeted down the bluff, breaking open and exposing half of their remaining supplies to the elements before it slammed into a boulder and disintegrated. In a matter of minutes, their six week supply was reduced by two thirds. _

_In the distance, what was left of the shuttle crashed into the ground with a deafening roar. _

_There was nothing to do but try to find a way to survive. They discovered that the bluff hid a honeycomb of caves that provided them with a good place to escape from the area's hostile winds and wildly fluctuating temperatures. They had spent what was left of that day carrying supplies down a crumbling path and into a cave that had a small spring deep within it, the fresh water being the only real piece of luck they'd experienced since they'd discovered the smugglers' base. _

_They managed to get the single intact pod unloaded before nightfall, but then the night gale picked up and made any further outside work impossible. The next day, they salvaged what they could from the shattered pod on the valley floor, but it was clear that they needed to supplement what they had, either from the crash site or from the planet's meager plant life, if they hoped to survive for long. _

"_I can't believe that they didn't put an emergency beacon in all three pods," Janeway sighed. She held in her hands the fragments of a beacon that had been smashed to bits on the rocks. "We're going to have to try to build one from scratch and from whatever components we can find." _

"_A daunting task," Tuvok stated. _

_They dutifully set up a good camp inside the cave, working to organize it while the sandstorms kept them inside. When the winds moderated, they were able to emerge and search for pieces of Starfleet equipment that might be used to build their beacon. They used up precious energy scanning the debris and searching for the location of the main crash site. After a week of this routine, they detected a sizable area of wreckage in a lakebed several kilometers from their location. _

_It might as well have been on the moon. _

_The trails they followed through the hills were treacherous. What had been a trustworthy path two days earlier might have been undermined by the sandstorm that had hit the area overnight. With power becoming an issue, they couldn't afford to use their tricorders to check the path, depending instead on visual clues. _

_It was during one of these foraging missions that she and Ryan had ventured into a path that had crumbled without warning beneath their feet. _

_What had happened next was burned into Janeway's memory. She was behind the young man, and they were talking about his training and hopes for piloting a Galaxy class ship when Ryan's arms had flown up as the ground gave way. He pitched forward and tumbled down the side of the canyon, the path they were on turning to dust. She had managed to catch hold of an outcropping of rock, slamming her left hip against the canyon wall in the process, but managing to avoid following him down. She struggled backwards, hanging from a tiny fissure in the rock until she reached solid ground. Once she knew she was safe, she looked into the valley, spying Ryan's body smashed against the side of a huge boulder. _

_They soon discovered that he had suffered a fractured skull and severe internal injuries. Tuvok had managed to carry his body back to the cave, but he had never regained consciousness, passing away two days later. _

_They decided to bury him at the mouth of the canyon. _

"Ryan might still be alive if we'd managed to beam out all of the emergency medical supplies that were on the _Redmon_. When we get back to Starfleet," Janeway muttered through gritted teeth, "I'm going to demand that they perfect the emergency beam-out program and put a beacon in every pod."

"An excellent idea," Tuvok replied, ignoring the anger and frustration in her voice. "In the meantime, on the next calm day, I will make the journey to the main crash site."

Janeway glanced up at him, imagining how long it would take him to walk that distance. "What if you get stuck there overnight? The winds on the flatlands are even worse than they are here, and, anyway, what can you really hope to find after all this time?"

"Some material might have been buried in the crash and protected from the storms."

"Tuvok, the shuttle broke up on entry and is probably strewn over a wide area. It's also been in a nearly-continuous sand storm for ten days."

"I also wonder if the third emergency pod might have been beamed to a location somewhere between here and the crash site. If so, finding it could be quite helpful."

She shook her head; she didn't put much faith in the theory. "I admire your optimism, but I despair of your finding usable debris."

"It's our only option."

"I should go with you in case you need help carrying any of the equipment back."

"Your hip injury would slow me down too much." He saw the look of frustration on her face and squeezed her arm in sympathy. "It would be best if you continued to work on constructing the emergency beacon while I'm gone."

"Oh, I'll work on it, but I can't help but wonder whether Starfleet is still listening."

Without warning, Tuvok stepped in front of her, pushing her back into a recessed part of the canyon wall to protect her from a vicious spray of sand, taking the brunt of it across his back. Janeway pressed her shoulders against the rocks to share with him as much of the wall's protection as possible. When the wind lessened some, he helped her hurry down the path, at times almost carrying her, and so her pessimistic comment was forgotten in their frantic run to escape from the storm.

They had spent very little time since the crash dwelling on the odds against their rescue, aware of the fact that their frantic use of their warp engines had sent them many light years beyond the scope of Starfleet's normal search pattern. Their survival depended on somehow constructing a beacon that could alert Starfleet of their location, a challenge roughly equivalent to using tin cans and a string to construct a subspace transceiver.

"I'm afraid another three-day sandstorm might be approaching, Admiral." They paused to look back toward the desert where the sand from the shifting dunes had turned blood red in the light of the setting sun. "The desert has had that same red hue every time the storms became more severe."

"Maybe these severe storms are the norm, not the exception." Janeway swallowed hard, refusing to give in to the tears that burned in her eyes. They'd just spent two agonizing days in the cave watching Ryan die and then had used the last good day since his death attending to his burial. She didn't know if she could bear another three days in the dark cold cave, especially now that her hip was burning like fire. "You'll have to delay the trip to the shuttle until the storm abates."

"Indeed."

When they arrived at their camp, they folded away the solar panels that recharged their battery packs and set up the force field inside the cave opening to keep out the wind. They stood on a small platform that looked out over a three foot drop off to the floor. She would have to make a sharp right and follow a narrow ledge that made a ramp along the outer wall in order to reach their campsite.

"Wait a moment," Tuvok said as he stepped past her, jumped to the floor, and then raised a hand to help her down the narrow ledge. "I don't want you to loose your balance and do more damage your hip."

"Thank you, Tuvok, but I don't deserve your thoughtfulness," she replied. She gripped his hand as she slowly descended to the floor, furious with herself for everything that had befallen them. She should have been more careful when they found the base, should have anticipated the possibility of a ship detecting them. She should have had a better escape plan in place, should have had reinforcements hidden in the Badlands, should have anticipated the need for the emergency beam-out while they were still at warp.

"But you do deserve my help," he assured her.

Overwhelmed by guilt and too touched to speak, she gave his hand a grateful squeeze.

They had set up a four-person tent inside the cave to provide them with some protection from the cold and damp by keeping the heat they generated from dissipating into the cave. During the day, they rolled up their sleeping pads so that they could work and eat inside the tent, using a pile of rocks heated by their phasers to keep them relatively warm. At night, they crawled into sleeping bags and shivered.

Tuvok and Ryan had devised a way to dam the stream and create a pool of fresh water for their use. Further downstream, they had placed their latrine. However, moving around in the cave required that they use some of their precious battery power for light, and so they moved around as little as possible.

"Sit down and rest while I warm some water," Tuvok ordered. Unwilling to argue, Janeway lowered herself onto a pile of sleeping pads to wait.

While the water was warming, they ventured to the latrine. Once the water was warm, they took turns washing their faces and hands before they settled down on their pallets, drinking deeply from canteens and sharing a small block of emergency rations from their dwindling store of food. They were caught up in their own thoughts, having little left to discuss, and so they gradually relaxed and prepared for some much-needed rest.

Although the pain in her hip lessened once she was off her feet, Janeway could not find a comfortable position for sleep. She was aware of the cold rocks beneath the sleeping pad creating just enough discomfort to keep her awake. She listened while Tuvok went through his nightly meditations and, when he dimmed the light and left them in total darkness, she heard him fall asleep quickly, his slow regular breathing a torment to her restless soul.

She pulled out a PADD and a book light so she could reread her final written communiqué from Seven of Nine. She was gratified with the woman's confident tone and the positive outlook in voice, and she was relieved to know that Seven would be well cared for by Dr. Zimmerman, the EMH, and Reginald Barclay. She imagined her mother and sister's grief at her disappearance; they didn't deserve to go through all this anguish a second time. She wondered what the crew would think of her bad luck, half smiling at the irony of her second calamity in the Badlands.

Then she thought about Chakotay. She should have found a way to talk with him and apologize for the role she'd played in his disastrous marriage and divorce. If she knew that he'd forgiven her, she could finally put her guilt aside. But then, maybe it was better this way, for she couldn't bear it if he refused to pardon her for her behavior.

She finally closed her eyes, her last waking thoughts focused on how she could talk Tuvok out of making the trip to the crash site. The beacon would be useless unless Starfleet followed her mad dash through the Badlands, and she doubted very much that they would do so. If he was injured or lost out in the flatlands, she'd be alone, and that would be the worst possible situation.

She was weak with hunger, freezing cold, sick with pain, and filled with despair. Overwhelmed with the futility of their situation, she gave up and cried softly into her pillow until sleep finally arrived.

Outside, the sandstorm increased in ferocity.

tbc


	19. Despair

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

A/N: Please note that the events in this chapter occur soon after the rescuers find the Class L planet.

Part 4.4 Despair

**Feb. 17, 2380-Four days later (Eighteen days after **_**Redmon's **_**disappearance)**

**Surface of Class L Planet**

Wrapped up in blankets and sleeping bags on the cave's freezing floor, Kathryn Janeway drifted into and out of consciousness, sometimes unmindful of her hopeless predicament, other times deeply cognizant of it. In her more lucid moments, she was not surprised to be meeting her death in the line of duty. In fact, although it might seem morbid to some, she'd often speculated about the circumstances and timing of her death.

She'd thought of dying in a huge antimatter explosion during battle, in an alien ambush during a botched first contact, from a virulent unknown fever or disease contracted during an away mission, through an accident or equipment failure on a starship, and, in the unlikely avoidance of those and other occupational hazards, she occasionally hoped that she might die of old age at her home in Indiana. However, she had never once considered the possibility of expiring on a blighted planet in the Badlands from a combination of starvation, exposure, and an increasingly high fever caused by alien bacteria.

Their supplies were depleted. She had one ration cube remaining. The anti-bacterial additive for the water supply was gone, bringing on the infection and fever that raged inside her body. The weak sunlight failed to recharge their batteries fully, and the constant battering of the solar panels by the sandstorms had quickly reduced their effectiveness. And then, of course, was their lack of an emergency beacon. For once in her life, Kathryn Janeway was out of options.

The meager daylight that slanted through the cave opening was fading, and she could hear the increasing sound of the nightly sand storm as it shimmered against the force field. Otherwise, the cave was quiet. She didn't bother with the lantern, preferring to brood over her troubles in the gloom that came from the powered down Sims beacon.

Tuvok was somewhere in the whirlwind. He'd left the previous morning to hike to the crash site, but, just as she'd feared, he had failed to return. She wondered if he was still alive, perhaps cowering in what was left of the shuttle or folded into a narrow crevice in a canyon wall as the maelstrom swirled around him. Although she preferred to repress the thought, she knew that he might already be dead, and that thought brought tears of guilt and remorse to her eyes.

"_Please don't go," she'd pleaded when he'd stocked his backpack with water, a couple of ration cubes, and a partially charged tricorder. "I'm afraid you'll get lost, and there is nothing I could do to help you." _

"_I must go if we hope to survive. What is the human saying about the darkest hour?" _

"'_The darkest hour is just before the dawn,'" she answered with a weak smile. "But I always wondered about that saying. We can't know it was the darkest hour until the light returns." _

"_Hope is, by nature, illogical, isn't it?" He gave her an intense look. "But, even a Vulcan knows that hope is a necessity of life, especially when the future looks bleak." _

"_It's my fault for stranding you here like this." _

"_I have no regrets over what has happened, Admiral, and neither should you." _

"_I'm responsible for this disaster." _

"_Don't be hard on yourself. I have reviewed every step we took during the reconnaissance mission, and I find no fault with the choices we made. I hold no feelings of resentment toward you, and neither would Lieutenant Grey. Every mission has an element of risk that Starfleet officers accept as part of the job." In an unusual gesture of physical comfort, he'd placed a hand on her shoulder. "This should be a time of reconciliation and peace, not a time of blame and regret." _

As Janeway lay back down on the pallet, struggling to find a comfortable position, she marveled at the last days that she and Tuvok had spent together. There had been no hysterics, no censure, and no bemoaning their fate. He truly used the time to make peace with his life and prepare himself for death, speaking only when she initiated a conversation and never burdening her with his private thoughts. His was an admirable approach to the inevitability of death, but she wasn't sure that she could follow his example.

She looked around the cave, taking in the little things they had accomplished to make the camp less austere-the neatly built dam that helped keep them supplied with water, the stack of rocks that radiated heat, the neatly swept rock floor, the organized interior of the tent. She shook her head. They had done nothing more than rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. There was nothing that they could do to solve their dilemma, and so, here she was, facing death alone. As was Tuvok, somewhere in the wind.

Three more deaths were on her hands, including her own, and she didn't even know if their sacrifice had been in vain. Had Starfleet found the message buoy she'd left behind in the Badlands? Had they managed to attack the smuggler's base and bring the illegal activity to an end? She couldn't even take comfort from the fact that their deaths had counted for something.

The lack of food, the cold, and her spiking fever were taking their toll on her mental health, as well. Her teeth chattered in spite of the blankets, and a feeling of malaise overwhelmed her. She would break out in a drenching sweat, and then feel colder than ever despite the heated stones. Twice, she managed to get on all fours and crawl to their latrine to take care of her physical needs, but soon dehydration set in and made such trips unnecessary. She was glad to stay as still as possible, because any movement intensified the shooting pains in her back and hip. She realized, when the time came, that death would be a welcome relief.

Between periods of fitful sleep, she sipped water from her canteen and, when she was lucid enough to do so, made the final official log entry of their blighted mission on the only tricorder that still held a charge. She had already recorded tearful notes to her mother and sister, a farewell to _Voyager_'s crew and senior staff, and a few personal messages to special friends and colleagues. She wondered if they would ever hear them, suspecting that her bones would turn to dust in this cave, her tomb undiscovered for eons, perhaps to be found in the far future, a curious anomaly—a single human female? Here?

There was one last message that she wanted to make—to Chakotay. She struggled to think of what to say, how to say it, even though she despaired of his hearing it. As death approached, she could think only of him and the misunderstanding that had come between them. She wanted so much to make peace with him, to ask for his forgiveness so that she could leave this life with everything settled and at peace. He had been her partner in the adventure of a lifetime, brilliant, faithful, challenging, funny, and kind. Each time she activated the recorder and imagined his face, she gave in to regret and sorrow as the words simply wouldn't come. She wasn't ready to tell him goodbye, couldn't go quietly to her death until this issue that separated them had been resolved.

Giving up on a coherent message, she placed the tricorder on auto-record, set to activate at the sound of her voice, and tried to take some time to gather her thoughts. Her strength flagging, she would approach the task a few sentences at a time, during those moments of coherent thought. Exhausted, she stared into the darkness, letting her mind go back over their many years together as _Voyager_'s command team. She was surprised that her memories of their exile were happy ones, especially those memories of Chakotay. She'd made good friends among the crew, some as close as any family tie she'd ever known, and she missed that feeling of belonging, the camaraderie of being on a team. She missed Chakotay most of all.

She closed her eyes and drifted into delirium, her confused mind taking her back to her final walk through _Voyager_'s passageways soon after their spectacular return to the Alpha Quadrant.

_In accordance with Starfleet custom, the crew lined the passageway walls to show their support and respect for their departing captain. She strolled slowly through the ship, speaking to each member of the crew along the way, Chakotay at her side. She knew their names, their strengths and weaknesses, their preferred shifts and duty assignments, their planets of origin, their family situation, even their favorite foods and hobbies. Many of them hugged her and promised to keep in touch. Most of them were struggling to control their emotions. She could feel her first officer's calm presence, even the warmth of his body, as he echoed her words and actions. _

_In her delirium, as she approached the door to the transporter room, she was shocked to discover that that the passageway was lined with many other people not part of her crew, people alive and dead, officers she'd known from other ships and the Academy, her school friends and family, her mother and father, even aliens she'd met in the line of duty in the Alpha and Delta Quadrants. She wanted to speak to them, but before she could say a word, the doors to the transporter room slid open, and she was propelled forward by an unseen hand. _

_The transporter room was a dark and frigid cave. Tuvok stood at the far side of the chamber, barely visible in the shadows, his disembodied voice echoing in the vast chamber. "Vulcans prefer to face death alone, but if you wish, I will stay with you to the end." _

_"No," she whispered. "I'm not afraid to die alone." _

_"Then I will return to the crash site. Live long and prosper." _

_"If only _Voyager_ were here, we could have hope. Chakotay wouldn't give up until he found us." She gasped at the thought of her first officer, realizing that he was no longer beside her, and then she found herself inside _Voyager's_ transporter room, ready to beam down to Earth. She looked around in confusion. "Where are Chakotay and Tuvok? I thought we were beaming down together." _

_When no one answered, she stepped slowly onto the platform, turning to find herself in a dark, frigid ready room on deck one. The door slid open, the bright light from the bridge nearly blinding her. Holding her hand in front of her face, she recognized the familiar silhouette that filled the doorway. _

_"Chakotay?"_

Her eyes flew open when she spoke his name, but the darkness inside the cave was so complete that only a flash of lightning outside briefly illuminated the cave. She remembered where she was and that she was alone. That she was dying.

The tricorder's red standby light blinked slowly on and off, reminding her of the unfinished message. She wondered how she would ever find the strength to tell him everything that she wanted to say, everything that had remained unspoken for so many years. If she started now, she could talk for hours and never find a way to stop, but then she reminded herself that there was only one thing that she really needed to tell him, only one sin to confess. Her vision blurred as she fell back into her blankets, caught up once again in her hallucination.

_"Chakotay?" she whispered. The silhouette walked into the ready room, but once the door closed, she found it impossible to see the expression on his face. "Is that you?" _

_The form said nothing, but leaned over her, the familiar aroma of Chakotay's cologne filling her with peace. _

_"I knew you'd come." She relaxed into her sofa as he reached for her. "You promised I wouldn't be alone." She felt herself being lifted upward, out of her body and toward his warmth. "With you beside me, Chakotay, I'm not afraid to die." _

_A bright light blinded her, but she simply closed her eyes and relished the warm strength of his body, the pain and anguish that wracked her body fading away. _

_"I never told you that I love you." She melted into his embrace, relieved to tell him, at last, the truth that she'd kept hidden in her heart. "Forgive me." _

The cave was totally dark. Only the dim light of the tricorder continued to blink in silent readiness, waiting for her voice.

tbc


	20. Amid the Debris

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 5.1 Amid the Debris

**Feb. 17 and 18, 2380-Same day (Eighteen and nineteen days after **_**Redmon's **_**disappearance)**

**Trebus Transport ship**

"Is he going to make it?" Chakotay stood beside Tuvok's battered body in the Trebus transport ship's tiny sickbay. They'd sent a probe into the upper atmosphere soon after their arrival in orbit and had picked up his commbadge signal. A few hours later, when there had been a break in the sand storm, they'd beamed him to their ship. He'd been alone and unconscious, nearly buried in sand and rubble in the middle of a desert, far from the protection of the hills. There was no sign of any other survivor.

"His condition was poor before he was trapped in the storm," Marla answered as she took a final scan of the Vulcan's body. "I'm pretty sure he was out in the open for hours, maybe even days. He was severely dehydrated and his body was literally filled with bacteria. I've given him a dose of strong antibiotics, cleaned up his wounds, and replaced his fluids, but Vulcans are unique in the way they heal themselves."

"So he's in a coma? You can't wake him up?"

"Not really a coma as much as a healing trance. I shouldn't even try to bring him out of it as long as his injuries are life-threatening." She looked up at Chakotay, her eyes mirroring his frustration. "Since they weren't together, I'm betting that the admiral and the pilot are somewhere in those bluffs. The composition of the rocks and ions from the sandstorms are preventing us from picking up their commbadges."

"Maybe. I can't imagine that Tuvok would leave them if they're still alive."

Marla put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Maybe he went to search for supplies. He was near the largest concentration of the ship's wreckage, and his backpack was filled with pieces of equipment. I'm thinking he might have gone to get more supplies and been caught in the storm."

"I hope you're right." Chakotay began to pace. His spirits had soared when they'd detected Tuvok's commbadge, but then his hopes had been dashed when further scans of the area had turned up a large debris field and no sign of the other two officers. "If we could just ask him, Tuvok could tell us where to find them."

"It's a shame that he can't talk." She stepped away from the bed and snapped the tricorder shut with a click. "But, he was in bad shape. It's lucky we found him when we did, because he didn't have much time left."

"Kathryn and the pilot couldn't be in much better shape." He took a deep breath and then made up his mind. "We can't waste any more time waiting for conditions to improve enough for us to use our orbital sensors to find them. As soon as the weather clears enough, Mike and I will beam down and do a physical search along the foothills. Our tricorders will work better at close range."

"There must be half a dozen canyons along those hills."

"That's why we need start as soon as possible."

Chakotay returned to the bridge where he and Mike studied the probe's scans of the crash area, amazed at how widespread the debris was. Each time they were able to peer through the soupy sandstorm, their sensors lit up with thousands of pieces of the Starfleet ship spread for miles over a series of ridges and into the valley.

"They couldn't have ridden out the crash in the ship," Mike said. "Nobody could have survived a crash that violent. They must have beamed out."

Chakotay nodded in agreement. "But where?"

"Close enough for Tuvok to scavenge for supplies." Ayala pointed to a series of finger-like ridges that reached from the foothills of the mountains that formed the edge of the desert. "The debris pattern suggests that the ship came over these ridges and then crashed. I'm thinking they would have beamed down in this plain to avoid the rough terrain. Or maybe on the top of a bluff."

"The bluff. It's high enough to protect them from the crashing ship. If so, they would have looked for a cave in one of these ridges," Chakotay added, pointing to the canyons. "The prevailing wind comes over these high bluffs, so I'd think they would have headed this way, just to avoid walking into the blowing sand."

Mike nodded, imagining them looking for a likely beam out spot as their ship tumbled into the atmosphere. "If we start here and work our way along these canyons, we should be able to search the entire region before the night winds start again."

"Of course, the winds will have covered up their tracks."

"Yeah. We'll have to look for visual cues. Maybe once we're close enough, we'll detect their commbadges."

"Sounds like a plan," Chakotay agreed. "And while we're doing a surface search, Marla can continue to scan from the ship."

"Maybe Tuvok will wake up soon enough to help us track her down."

"I'm not counting on that, Mike."

After a few last scans, they adjourned to their quarters for some sleep, but Chakotay found himself too upset and nervous to get much rest. He got out of bed and made a list of the special supplies that they should take along with them—antibiotics, in case the two humans were also suffering from Tuvok's infection, extra fluids and rations, even some clean clothing and a portable sonic shower device.

Whenever he closed his eyes, Kathryn's face appeared, reminding him of her desperate situation. He wanted to be doing something instead of waiting for the weather to clear or Tuvok to wake up. The Vulcan had been in critical condition when they'd beamed him aboard, and Chakotay felt certain that Kathryn and the pilot must be in as bad shape or worse. This delay might mean that they arrive too late to help them.

Finally, he managed to fall asleep, but his dreams were troubled by memories of _Voyager_'s captain in a variety of life-and-death situations. He woke up the next day just as tired as he'd been the night before, but glad to finally start doing something.

The two men were packed and ready to go, stopping long enough to talk to Marla one last time.

"Is Tuvok awake yet?" Chakotay asked, hoping for good news.

"Not yet, but he's showing signs of coming around. I'll call you as soon as I have any news."

"Okay. We're beaming down now."

Each man carried a heavy backpack filled with food, water, emergency supplies, and an assortment of medications that Marla thought might be needed to treat the survivors. They beamed into the canyon closest to the crash site and began their search.

"Wow," Mike commented. "There are pieces of that ship all over the place."

"Yeah, it broke up at a high altitude." Chakotay looked around and then nodded toward the canyon. "We might as well get started."

Chakotay led the way, scanning one side of the canyon wall while Ayala scanned the other. They moved quickly toward the closed end, meeting each other with bad news—they'd found no cave large enough to shelter two or three people. Determined to move ahead, they trudged toward the opening of the canyon together and hiked to the next one.

The walk was uneventful, and the men needed something to keep them from contemplating the many bad outcomes their search might uncover, so Chakotay asked some questions about Mike's love life.

"You and Marla seem to be getting along quite well."

"Yeah," Mike blushed and shrugged his shoulders. "It surprised us both. We decided to take things slow. The counselors told us to wait at least a year before we made any important decisions." When Ayala realized what he'd said and to whom, he stopped in his tracks. "I'm sorry, Chakotay, I can't believe I said that to you, of all people."

"Because Seven and I didn't wait?" Chakotay took a deep breath and shook his head as he studied the settings on his tricorder. "Don't feel bad that you two have more common sense than we did, although I don't know that waiting would have done us any good."

"Who knows? Rumor has it you two married in the admiral's timeline, too."

"That's what Kathryn tells me, and I guess the admiral was telling the truth, but everything changed once _Voyager_ returned."

They reached the mouth of the next canyon where they resumed their search, working steadily, checking in now and then with Marla, and pausing every half hour or so for a break. Three hours later, they were nearly halfway through the series of canyons when Marla interrupted them.

"I'll give you the bad news first," she said, her words muffled by static. "There's another plasma storm moving in from the Badlands, and it's bigger than any we've seen so far. I think we can safely say that the conditions in your area are going to get much worse, and fast."

"How long do we have?" Chakotay wondered.

"Maybe thirty minutes. And I need help up here. Having to monitor both Tuvok and this storm is too much for one person. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to leave orbit when the storm arrives."

"Understood," Chakotay answered, glancing toward the five canyons they had yet to scan. "What's the good news?"

"The good news is that Tuvok woke up briefly from his healing trance. I think he is so worried about the admiral that he forced himself to regain consciousness."

Chakotay nearly collapsed with relief. "So she's alive?"

"She was when he left her over twenty-four hours ago."

"Did he tell you where she is?"

"In the last canyon—we started at the wrong end. They beamed out a lot farther from the crash site than we thought."

"He left her behind?" Mike asked, pulling out his tricorder and picking up evidence of the fast-approaching storm. "I thought they'd stick together."

"She was injured in a fall and had trouble walking," Marla explained, "so he left her behind while he went to the crash site to look for supplies."

Chakotay replied, "We haven't seen much in the way of food or water down here."

"I don't have coordinates of the cave, but he says it's on the right wall as you walk into the canyon, two-thirds of the way down and up a ledge-like ramp."

Chakotay nodded. "Is the pilot with her?"

"Tuvok says he died four days ago. He's buried at the opening of the canyon where Janeway is located."

"Acknowledged. Stand by." Chakotay peered into the horizon that was already turning red with blown sand, measuring how far he would have to hike to reach the burial site. "It sounds like you need to beam back up there and help her, Mike."

"I don't want to leave you down here by yourself."

"What else can we do? Marla needs help, but we can't leave Kathryn down here until the storm blows over. If she's as sick as Tuvok was, she'd never make it that long."

"You're probably right."

Chakotay was suddenly anxious to get started. "Chakotay to Marla. Can you beam Mike up from here?"

"Negative. You're too close to the bluffs."

"Okay, stand by." Chakotay reached for Mike's pack. "I have to get going, and you need to hike out into the desert for Marla to get a lock on you."

"Are you sure about this?" Mike helped him load the second pack onto his shoulders just as a gust of wind came over the top of the bluffs and hit them with a biting spray of sand. "No telling what you're going to find in that cave."

"We can't quit now." Chakotay peered toward the canyon, unable to look his friend in the eye. By the time he hiked to the last canyon and found the cave, the weather would probably have deteriorated even further. If he was lucky, he'd find Janeway still alive. He didn't want to think about what he'd find if he was unlucky. "I'll be waiting for your call when the storms let you resume orbit."

"Sounds like it could be awhile."

"I'll manage."

Mike put his hand on Chakotay's shoulder. "For what it's worth, we'll be thinking of you and hoping for the best."

"Thanks, Mike."

"She'll be alive. She's a survivor."

Chakotay nodded, pulled his hood up over his head, and started walking. "Get going, Mike."

"Yeah." Mike started out into the desert. "Marla, let me know when you get a lock."

"Acknowledged."

Chakotay trudged on, not even bothering to look back when Mike transported to the ship. He was glad to have some time alone to prepare himself emotionally for whatever trial he was about to experience.

The extra weight he carried and the strong winds made his trip exhausting. By the time he arrived at the canyon and found the pile of rocks that was the pilot's grave, he was nearly exhausted and needed to catch his breath. He opened his tricorder and scanned it, finding human DNA.

"Sorry we were too late to help you," he said as he knelt down and picked up a rock to add to the mound. He was reminded by a sudden gust of wind that he had more territory to cover before walking became impossible, so he stood up, shifted the packs on his back, and started trudging down right wall of the canyon.

What would he do if Kathryn was dead? As much as he wanted to believe that she would be alive, he knew that finding her sooner rather than later would improve her chances. And he needed to find the cave soon, before his tricorder was useless against the interference of the storm, before he was forced to find a different place of refuge and wait out the weather.

"Think good thoughts," he said to himself. He recalibrated the tricorder and resumed his search.

He would find her, or he'd die trying.

tbc


	21. The Cave

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 5.2 The Cave

**February 18, 2380—Later the same day (Nineteen days after **_**Redmon's **_**disappearance)**

**Surface of Class L planet**

Chakotay took refuge in a crevice and watched the blistering sand whirl past him from the closed end of the canyon. Sliding his now useless tricorder into its holder, he was amazed at how quickly the storm had intensified. He estimated that he was about halfway down the canyon, but he had yet to find any sign of a cave or the ledge that Tuvok said lead up to the cave's opening. He was unable to see more than a couple of feet ahead, even with the added protection of his Starfleet goggles, and he despaired of spying the ledge unless there was a break in the wind. There was nothing he could do except feel for it with his hands and feet as he crept along the canyon wall.

He readjusted the heavy packs, settled the goggles on his nose, and steeled himself for the blast that would hit him as soon as he stepped into the open. He could kick himself for not getting a better description of the cave's location while he was talking to Marla. She had told him that it was two-thirds of the way down the canyon on the right side, and it had a narrow ledge that led up to its opening. But that was hardly enough information when he couldn't see five feet in front of his nose.

Did the ledge begin at ground level or few feet above that along the wall? Was it a foot deep? Two feet deep? Did it begin on the main wall or in one of the narrow fissures that pocketed the side of the canyon? In normal weather, he had a decent chance of finding the opening with the information she'd provided, but not in a gale like this.

Continuing his search was putting his life on the line, but there was too much at stake for him to stop now. He couldn't quit when he knew that he could be just a few paces away from finding Kathryn, and the price of failure—her life—was too high a price to pay.

He spent a moment finding his bearings and then inched backward out of his alcove, plastering himself against the wall and gripping the rock with his gloved hands. The wind caught the heavy backpacks and pushed him sideways, nearly pushing him to the ground before he managed to regain his balance. He scooted his left foot forward along the base of the wall and slid his body to the left without allowing the wind to push him away from the wall, using his hands to search for anything that might be a ledge.

If anything, the storm had intensified since he taken refuge in the crevice five minutes earlier. The wind originated somewhere behind the closed end of the canyon, poured over the precipice like a waterfall, and sped up as it funneled out into the desert. Although his survival gear protected him from serious injury, he knew that the small rocks and pebbles that pummeled him would leave his body covered with bruises. He imagined that the wind would scour an unprotected body to the bone within minutes.

Chakotay kept moving, at times struggling to stay on his feet, at times praying that the straps on his backpacks would not fail, at times longing to find another crevice where he could escape the wind and wait out the storm. He had no idea how long he had been sliding along the wall or how far he'd come when he suddenly stepped into an oasis of calm.

He'd come to the blind end of the canyon that was just under the cliff's rim, the wind rushing above him, a visible stream of air. The direction of the storm meant that this small area was quiet, except for an occasional swirl of sand, and he finally had a chance to see at least part of the canyon wall clearly. In addition, for the first time in hours, he could stand without leaning against the force of the gale. He studied the wind that poured over the top of the canyon overhead and down the valley, amazed at its howling speed and brutal power.

"But where is the ledge to the cave?" he muttered to himself, a sick feeling in his stomach. "And where is the cave opening?"

He'd missed it, obviously, and would have to retrace his path in order to find it. He studied that part of the canyon wall that was visible from his perspective and slumped against the rock wall in despair, only to discover that he had sat down on a flat surface. He stood up, turned around, and nearly danced with joy. The ledge started behind him, at the back of the canyon, and angled steeply upward, reaching nearly shoulder level before it was caught in the wind. He walked up the ledge and back into the canyon, clinging to the rock as the winds hit him once again. He figured that moving at a steady pace, he would reach the cave opening in about fifteen minutes.

Time crawled as slowly as he did, but, at long last, he spied at the farthest reach of vision a dull flash of low-level light.

"That can't be naturally occurring," he thought to himself. "It has to be a force field over the cave opening."

The wind was even more brutal at the higher elevation, but whenever he felt tired, he simply turned his head and waited for the glow of light to remind him of his destination.

He was flooded with relief. It took a tremendous effort to stay upright as the currents swirled within the closed walls of the canyon and, while he only had to cover a few hundred yards, the many miles he'd hiked during the day and his struggle to stay vertical against the wind left him trembling with exhaustion.

His progress was slow, but Chakotay pressed on, imagining what the storm must be like for Janeway. He pictured here huddled alone and afraid in a frigid cave with dwindling supplies and fading hope of a rescue. She was probably worrying about Tuvok and feeling guilty about the pilot's death instead of thinking about on her own situation. Unless she had already perished.

He pushed the thought away. She had to be alive; he wouldn't let himself think for a moment that she might not be alive.

After what seemed like an eternity, Chakotay's right hand slid along the canyon wall and recoiled from a mild tingling shock that traveled up his arm. He pulled the hand back and smiled, grateful to know that his journey was almost over. He tightened his grip on the rock wall and inched closer to the opening until he was standing beside it, the right side of his body reacting to power generated by the force field.

He decided that the best thing to do would be to simply leap through the force field and into the cave, briefly shorting out the power source in the process. If he found the force field needed to be reactivated, he could take care of it later. He would experience a brief, fairly mild shock to his system, but nothing that approached the power of the mildest phaser setting. At most, he would be dizzy and nauseous; at worst, he might lose consciousness for a few minutes.

Chakotay had no way of knowing how weak the field had become in the hours since Tuvok's departure, and he failed to take into consideration the extra weight he was carrying in the two backpacks. When he gathered his resolve and launched himself through the cave opening, he did so with more force than was needed. The force field gave way with little resistance, allowing his momentum to carry him forward too fast to allow for the narrow platform that extended only about two feet into the room before it dropped off steeply to the floor.

Unable to stop, he barreled over the edge of the platform and into the cavern, falling four feet to the rock floor where he landed face down, the weight of both his body and the backpacks smashing him into the floor. He immediately lost unconsciousness and lay unmoving on the rocks as blood soaked into the hood of his headgear and pooled beneath his face.

Inside the cave, there was silence. Outside, the sand storm continued.

"Do you think he's found the cave by now?" Marla asked as she rejoined Mike on the shuttle's bridge. She'd left Tuvok in a renewed healing trance in sickbay and was readt to help get the ship to a safe location until the plasma storm ended.

"I hope so, because the worst of the sand storm was heading right toward him when we left orbit."

"I saw the size of the low pressure system, Mike. The storm is going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

"I'd say it'll last a couple of days. Maybe three." He looked up from his console as she sat down beside him. "How's Tuvok?"

"Once I told him that Chakotay was taking care of the admiral, he went right back into his trance."

"That bad, huh?" He shook his head.

"I'd say he would have been dead if we'd found him even an hour later."

"Wow. I wonder if the admiral is in better shape."

"I doubt it, don't you?"

"Yeah. I'd say that if Chakotay doesn't find her soon, it will be too late." She shuddered, thinking of the conditions they'd endured. "Did you experience much of the storm?"

"Enough to know it was not good for my health. I was never happier to get back to a ship in my life."

"That's bad."

"I've been in some pretty bad climates in my day, but this one is special. There is no sign of water, and the atmosphere is so dry that my sinuses may never recover. No evidence of plant or animal life. Just sand and rocks in profusion."

"There are signs of a few underground streams."

"That would be essential to survival down there." Mike pulled up the most recent scan of the Badland storms. "The storms aren't stationary. Probably, at some point the past, they didn't come close to this planet, but now they're responsible for most of the weather." He pointed at the scan. "You can see how this tendril of plasma is heading for our position. It changed the climate here and probably plays havoc with the sun, too."

"Looks nasty."

"To be safe, we'll need to let this subside. I'd say it will be at least forty-eight hours before we can resume our orbit over the desert."

"In the meantime, Chakotay is trying to survive on the surface."

"He knew what he was in for when he sent me ahead. He knew he'd be down there for the duration of the storm, whether he finds Janeway or not."

"Let's just hope he survives. And that he finds the admiral."

"At this point, I'd settle for his survival."

"So would I."

"Okay, we're far enough away to avoid any complications from the plasma storm. Now we can just take care of Tuvok and wait for a chance to get back and rescue Chakotay."

"Sometimes, I think waiting is the hardest part."

Mike shook his head. "Not this time, Marla. This time, we're getting off easy."

tbc


	22. Rescue

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 5.3 Rescue

**Feb. 18, 2380—a short time later**

**Surface of Class L planet**

Chakotay awoke with his face pressed into a pool of coagulated blood and his head and shoulders weighed down by the two heavy packs of supplies. The cave was dark, lit only by the infrequent flashes of lightning, but his vision was limited, anyway. The hood of his protective gear covered his face, and the remains of the shattered protective goggles blocked his vision.

His head hurt so much that he hesitated to move, taking a few moments to steel himself for the ordeal. When he finally tried to lift his head, he discovered that his face was glued to the floor by dried blood and that he had to peel his head off of the floor. The effort was almost too much for him. He was fighting nausea as he pushed the packs off his shoulders and pulled the hood of his cloak back from his face. For a panicked moment, he thought he might throw up.

"Great. Just great. The last thing I need is a concussion." He pulled off his gloves, gingerly removed what was left of his goggles, and explored the damage to his face with gentle fingers. The frame of the goggles had driven into his right eyebrow, leaving a deep gash that had bled profusely. The nosepiece had broken his nose, but at least it hadn't hemorrhaged. He was disgusted to discover that blood had dried into the eyelashes of his right eye and sealed it shut.

He'd need the medkit and some quick first aid before he started his search for Kathryn, but, just in case she was nearby and had somehow missed the noise of his fall, he decided to call out her name.

"Kathryn?" he shouted, immediately regretting the pain that the effort cost him. Holding his head in his hands, he listened as her name echoed back to him from deep inside the cavern.

There was no reply.

He stared at the cave opening above him and pressed the palm of his hand against the side of his head, moaning as he felt the slickness of coagulated blood that was matted in his hair. When the next flash of lightning revealed the location of his pack, he reached for it and pulled out a SIMs beacon and a medkit.

It was a challenge to perform first aid on oneself, even in the best of circumstances, with enough light and a good mirror. Here, it would be hit and miss. He arranged the beacon to create a ring of light around him and arranged the medical supplies so that they were in easy reach in front of him. First, he methodically removed the blood from his eye, face, and the side of his head. It took him a while longer to do a quick dermal repair to his eyebrow and to take a painkiller to fight the nausea that still haunted him. The broken nose was an uncomplicated fracture that could wait for medical attention as long as he was careful not to bump it. The black eye would heal on its own. Satisfied that his injuries were patched up adequately, he repacked the medkit, stowed it in his backpack, and picked up the beacon.

Standing up was another adventure in dizziness and nausea, and he was saved from throwing up only because the painkiller had taken effect. He strapped the beacon to his wrist and aimed it around the cavern, picking up signs of recent habitation in the neatly stacked pile of used supplies and the faint odor of the chemicals Starfleet provided for makeshift latrines. He was not surprised that there was moisture in the air, a sure sign that there was a stream deeper in the cave; without water, none of them could have survived this long.

"Kathryn? Do you hear me? Are you here?"

He wasn't surprised when there was no answer. If she hadn't heard and responded to the racket caused by his fall or his first shouting of her name, she probably wouldn't respond now. He shivered in the damp cold, listening for any sound, no matter how slight, but heard only the storm raging outside and the soft buzz of sand spraying against the shield that had reset itself.

"Time to do some spelunking," he said as he left one pack on the floor and pulled his tricorder out of the other. Slinging the second pack over his back and armed with his tricorder and the beacon, he slowly moved forward and began a systematic scan of the chamber. To his relief, he soon picked up a weak human life sign and made his way toward it.

His flashlight revealed that beside a small stream a camp site had been set up that conformed perfectly to the dictates of the Starfleet survival manual. Near a pile of containers that they had brought from the survival pod, he spied the unmistakable form of a Starfleet survival tent. Walking quickly, he peered inside and detected the form of a sleeping human.

He'd found Kathryn. He was so relieved that he nearly sank to his knees, but then he noticed how still she was and that there was no visible sign of respiration. A different kind of nausea hit him, one caused by fear, and he paused a moment before he found the courage to approach her.

"Kathryn?"

She was lying on her side on a sleeping pad with her back turned toward him. Beside her lay a phaser, two canteens, a hypospray, a few empty ration wrappers, and a tricorder with the flashing light of standby mode. He cleared his throat so he could speak louder.

"Kathryn?"

He knelt down and shook her shoulder gently. When she still didn't respond, he carefully rolled her onto her back, his heart pounding as he gazed at her for the first time in months. She was deathly pale, emaciated, and barely breathing, and when he brushed her hair out of her face, he could tell that she was running a high fever. Her uniform was filthy with sand and her hair was a dirty, tangled mess, but to Chakotay's eyes, she was a beautiful sight.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, letting his hand linger against her cheek. "I should have helped you with this mission." He took a shuddering breath. "It was selfish and cowardly of me, and I beg your forgiveness."

Having gotten that apology off of his chest, he reached inside his pack for the medical kit, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Dehydrated," he muttered, glancing at the medical tricorder. "She has a bacterial infection similar to Tuvok's."

Without delay, he went to work, calling up the treatment plan that the Trebus ship's more sophisticated first aid program had outlined for Tuvok on the ship. First he pulled out a laser cutter and slit the sleeve of her uniform to the elbow. Washing the skin on her forearm with a sterile cloth, he carefully wrapped a hydration cuff around it and attached a large packet of saline solution that would be rapidly infused into her bloodstream and relieve the problems of dehydration. He had three other packets in this case, just in case one wasn't enough.

Then he administered a hypospray of the wide spectrum antibiotic that Marla had used on Tuvok, sending up a silent prayer that it would work on her infection as well as it had on the Vulcan's. He knew that certain elements had been modified for her iron-based blood and worried that the change would make it less effective.

Finally, he loaded an analgesic into the hypospray to bring down her fever and reduce the stress her body was experiencing from the illness. It wasn't unusual for patients to respond immediately to such medications, but Kathryn lay so still and looked so pale that Chakotay could almost believe she was dead.

Unable to sit idle and watch her breathe, he used the moist towelette to wipe the dirt from her face and hands. If she didn't regain consciousness soon, he'd be forced to remove her clothing so he could take proper care of her; he had brought along a supply of gowns for that purpose. He took a moment to scan her body for any other injury, pausing with concern when he came to her injured thigh and hip.

"What's this?" he said to himself as he made a few adjustments to the tricorder. He pulled out the wand for a more detailed scan and frowned as it picked up a fractured pelvis and inflamed hip socket. "No wonder you stayed behind in the cave while Tuvok looked for supplies."

He sat back on his heels to think what, if anything, he could do to alleviate the pain caused by this hip injury with the first aid equipment he'd brought with him. Shaking his head, he knew that it was beyond him. She needed a real sickbay and probably a trained physician to take care of her injuries; all he could do was try to make her comfortable. He carefully arranged her body so that the damaged hip was protected and not bearing any extra weight, and then he shook out her blankets and tucked them around her to keep her warm. He used a phaser to heat the pile of rocks in the middle of the tent before he returned to the upper level of the cave to retrieve Mike's pack.

He spent the next hour cleaning up the campsite and breaking out the rest of his supplies. After a quick trip to the makeshift latrine, he explored the layout of the camp, including the nearby unused parts of the cave. Once he was satisfied that the camp was in order, he set up a mirror and examined his injuries more carefully. As a boxer, he'd learned to take care of broken noses and facial cuts, although few had been as extensive as these. He watched as the bruises disappeared from his eyes and face, and then checked on his patient.

Kathryn hadn't moved, but her breathing was deeper and less labored, and her color looked better already. He replaced the empty saline solution bag on her forearm with one that contained nutrients that would provide some of the vitamins and minerals that she'd lost, but there was nothing he else could do. To his dismay, her fever was still elevated, and so he administered a second dose of the analgesic and then, exhausted from his long, emotional day of searching, lay down on a nearby pallet to keep watch over her.

He had barely gotten comfortable when he noticed the tricorder that was on the floor between them had been pushed under her sleeping pad. He realized that she probably used it to make notes to herself and that it also recorded everything he'd said to her and to himself since he'd found her. Embarrassed to have those words preserved for posterity, he decided to erase everything that had been recorded since his arrival at the cave.

He did a quick search and then listened to the playback of one of her last comments.

_"Chakotay? Is that you?"_

He stopped and glanced over at Kathryn, amazed that her comments were addressed to him. Clearly, she'd said his name hours earlier while she was still conscious or at least partially awake. Her voice sounded odd—as if she were almost delirious or hallucinating about him. Even though he was infringing on her privacy, he was too curious to put the recording aside.

_"I knew you'd come." _

His throat nearly closed with emotion as he realized that she'd never doubted his loyalty; when he wasn't there, she'd conjured his presence out of thin air.

"_You promised I wouldn't be alone. With you beside me, Chakotay, I'm not afraid to die." _

Holding the PADD in one hand, he reached out and held her hand with the other, deeply grieved to think that she had given up hope.

_"I never told you that I love you. Forgive me."_

He was so shocked by her words that he simply stared at her until the recorded clatter of his violent entry into the cave brought him back to reality. He erased everything from that point to the end and then placed the tricorder in his pack.

He leaned closer to her, picking up her hand again, and marveled at her confession. She loved him. He'd always wondered if she cared for him, often hoped that she did, but had never known for sure. Now, she had left him a deathbed confession. Her last coherent thoughts had been of him, and he rationalized away his guilt of eavesdropping by reminding himself that she actually thought she was talking to him when the recording was made.

At that moment, she stirred for the first time, wincing slightly as she moved her leg. He moved closer to her to do another quick scan, relieved to see that that her fever had broken, at last.

"I'm here, Kathryn," he told her, cradling her cheek in his hand. "You're going to be all right."

She sighed deeply and turned slightly toward him, but she didn't wake up, and so he turned off the beacon, relying on the softer light of the small lantern, and stretched out beside her. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

TBC


	23. Confessions

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 5.4 Confessions

**Feb. 18, 2380—a few hours later **

**Surface of Class L planet**

Chakotay opened his eyes hours later to find that he was in near-total darkness. He'd programmed the lantern to conserve energy by gradually dimming to a glow during periods of inactivity, so the campsite was not just cold, but dark, as well. An occasional flash of lightning filled the room with light, and the wind continued to whistle past the cavern opening. The only other sound was Kathryn's regular breathing, and he took much comfort from that.

The sleeping pad had done little to soften the cold hard rock of the cave floor, and he found that he was shivering and stiff from inactivity. With an audible groan, he stretched out his limbs twisted his body to get the blood flowing again. He heard a surprised gasp and rolled over to find his patient staring at him.

"Kathryn?" he whispered as sat up and reached for the lantern. "Can you see me?"

"Chakotay?" Her voice cracked with disuse and her eyes fluttered as she tried to focus on his face in the sudden light.

He knelt beside her, lifting her by the shoulders to help her swallow some purified water from his canteen.

"Just a little for now," he warned her as she nearly choked. "Just wet your mouth and swallow once or twice."

"Thank you," she stared at him, her eyes fluttering. "My throat was so dry."

"You're welcome." He lowered her gently to the sleeping pad and took a swig of water, as well. Her eyes remained fixed on him, as if he were an apparition that would disappear if she blinked. "Kathryn, are you all right?"

"Is that-," she stopped to rub her eyes with her fingertips and then started over. "Are you really you?"

"I'm really me," he responded with a smile, resisting the urge to pull her into a hug to prove that he was, indeed, flesh and blood. When he saw her shiver, he grabbed the phaser and heated the rocks to take the chill from the air. "If I'm aching from the cold, you must be in agony."

"I hurt all over." She winced as she shifted slightly, pressing her hand into her hip. "But pain means I'm alive, so I'm not complaining."

He nodded as he picked up the medical tricorder and did a quick scan. "The antibiotic seems to be knocking down the infection, and the fever is lower, but the meds aren't working as well on you as they did on Tuvok. It's probably because of his Vulcan physiology, or maybe it's a slightly-mutated bacteria. We'll have the medical diagnostic program fix that on the ship."

"The ship." She shook her head in confusion and then looked at the infuser on her arm in surprise. "You don't mean _Voyager_."

"No. Not _Voyager_." He smiled at her as he closed the tricorder. "We can take the hydration cuff off of your arm."

"That's where all this came from?" She lifted her arm and stared at the cuff. "From your ship?"

"From my ship—and me." Chakotay chuckled and pulled out another dose of the medications from the medkit, reminding himself that she was groggy and doubting her own eyes, which was perfectly understandable considering her weakened condition. "I really am here, Kathryn. You aren't dreaming."

"I dreamed you were here before," she said, her eyes troubled. "I even talked to you."

"Maybe you were hallucinating. You haven't said a word since I got here."

She sighed and lay back on the pad. "It's just so unlikely for you to appear on this god-forsaken planet."

"We've always beaten the odds, Kathryn." He gave her a wink as he slipped the tubule into the hypospray and calibrated it to the proper dose.

"You mentioned Tuvok." She sat up suddenly, gasping with pain, but pinning him with panicked eyes as she leaned on an elbow. "Tuvok was here with me, but he left. He's out there somewhere, all alone."

"Not any more. We found him out in the desert by the shuttle wreckage." He took her by the shoulders and lowered her onto the pad. "He had the same problems you do—dehydration and a nasty bacterial infection. That's how I knew to bring these antibiotics with me." He held up the hypospray.

"So he's alive." She relaxed with a groan. "I'm so relieved to hear that."

"He's in a healing trance."

"Where? Where did you put him?" She looked around the cavern as if expecting to find the Vulcan close by.

"He's on my ship, Kathryn."

"Your ship. Of course." She frowned and closed her eyes, as if she were trying to imagine the possibility of a ship. "He went to the crash site to scavenge for equipment and food. The emergency beam-out procedure left so much of what we needed behind or scattered it across the desert. We were never able to fabricate a new emergency beacon, and then Ryan was injured, and we ran out of supplies." Tears filled her eyes.

"Shhh. Shhh. I understand." He knelt beside her and took her hand, trying to calm her. "The way those fighters were attacking your shuttle, you're lucky the beam-out worked at all." He reached for a hypospray, and she willingly tilted her head to give him access to her neck. He was gratified to see her relax further as the pain lessened. "You're lucky you survived that stunt at all, you know."

"I know. I didn't want to do it." She looked around again, taking in the campsite. "I wonder if you'd help me use the latrine."

"I could. Or you could use the bedpan, if your hip hurts too much."

"It will hurt to walk, but it also might help to move around."

"All right." He stood up and helped her to her feet, taking most of her weight as she wavered. "If you want, I can also bring you some clean clothing and toiletries."

"I'd like that." She cried out with pain as she put weight on her damaged hip and leaned heavily on Chakotay. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"Sit back down."

"No, I'm up now. I want to clean up. I must look like hell."

"I don't care what you look like, Kathryn. You're a sight for sore eyes, as far as I'm concerned."

He put an arm under her shoulders and took most of her weight as they went down the passageway to the area that had been made into a latrine. While she took care of her needs, he went back to his backpack and returned with the supplies she would need to clean up, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, and towels, leaving her alone until she let him know she was finished.

"I may still look awful, but I'm sure I smell better," she quipped as they slowly made their way back to the tent. She lay down on the pallet and struggled to find a comfortable position.

"Maybe food will help." He grinned at her and broke out a ration pack. "I brought your favorite—chicken with noodles. I thought it might be easier to digest than some of the other choices."

"I'm too tired to eat."

"But, you need to eat something to regain your strength. I'll help you." He opened the ration pack and warmed the food before he scooped some onto a spoon and held it out to her. She opened her mouth and let him spoon the noodles into her mouth. "There. Just try to eat a few bites for now."

By the fourth bite, her eyes were drooping. "No more."

"Sleep, Kathryn. I'll be here when you wake up."

He opened a ration pack for himself as he watched her sleep, so relieved to find her alive and breathing that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He had no doubt but that she had been near death when he'd arrived. Even now, after nearly a full day of treatment, she was not thinking clearly, still ran a fever, and could barely stand because of her injury. He'd been amazed that she hadn't asked him how he'd found her or why he was there alone, but attributed it to the fact that she was still confused.

But they would have time to talk through all of that later, once they were safely on his ship. In the meantime, the storm raged on. They'd have to remain in the cave for a while longer, probably a minimum of twenty-four hours, and then he'd have to figure out how to carry her far enough away from the hills to be beamed to the ship. Bored and tired, he soon settled down on his pallet and drifted off to sleep. Once again, the lantern's light waned to the power of a single candle and the rocks cooled.

His eyes opened a sometime later to almost complete darkness, and he wondered what had awakened him. The he heard a whisper from Kathryn.

"Chakotay? Are you really there?"

"I'm really here." He sat up at once and scooted to her side, dragging the lantern with him so they could see each other's faces. "What's the matter? Are you in pain?"

"I thought you were a dream." Her voice was choked with emotion. "I thought you were part of my hallucinations."

He nodded. "You've been through a lot. It's only normal that you're confused."

"How did you get here?"

"I came looking for you, of course."

"You came looking for me."

He nodded.

"You did. What about Starfleet?"

"They looked for awhile, but declared your ship lost. When they stopped their search, Seven and your mother contacted me and asked me to take over the search."

"They gave up?"

"They were thorough," he assured her. "They did an extensive scan of the Badlands, had dozens of ship searching for any trace of your shuttle, but when they didn't find any sign of you . . . well, they stopped looking."

"We went to warp."

"Yes, I know you did," he frowned at the way she repeated herself. She didn't seem to remember their discussion of this situation just a short while earlier. "I know you had to, but they didn't think you'd make such a reckless move. By the time the beacon you left activated and they recovered it, their actions and the plasma storms simply 'ate up' your ion trail."

"You knew I had to?" She blinked at him and squinted her eyes a little. "You knew that I had to go to warp?"

"Just a lucky guess." He chuckled, his dimples on full display. "Maybe, after all those years together on _Voyager_, we think alike. I just put myself in your position and imagined what I would have done in the same circumstances."

"But, if our warp trail was lost, how did you know where to look?"

"Mike Ayala and I studied the earliest scans of the area, and he found a faint ion trail in their earliest scan of the area. It was easy to miss unless you'd had a lot of experience in the Badlands."

"Mike's with you?"

"Mike and Marla, yeah."

"And you followed that course."

"It seemed like the best possibility."

"I'm so glad." A tear fell from the corner of her eye. "I thought I'd run out of luck."

"Not yet." He smoothed her hair away from her cheek, brushing the tear aside. "Do you need anything? Are you in pain?"

"I'm so cold," she whispered, pulling her blanket closer. "I'm cold all the way through to my bones."

"Let me help." He reheated the stones and brought her a hot drink. "This is broth; it's too soon for coffee."

She nodded her assent and let him help her sit up. She drank the soup gratefully, but her lips were almost blue with cold and her teeth chattered. "Still so cold."

"I could hold you," he suggested. "Maybe shared body heat will help."

"Okay."

He slid his sleeping pad closer to hers and lay down, pulling her close before he spread a blanket over them. She buried her face in his neck and tangled her legs with his.

"You are cold, Kathryn. I feel like I'm holding an ice cube."

She laughed and snuggled closer. "I bet you're glad I smell better now."

"You're right." He chuckled and forced himself to relax. Then, he felt her shaking in his arms. "Kathryn?"

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, burying her face in the hollow of his neck, "but I'm just so relieved that you found us."

"I'm relieved, too." He rubbed her back to comfort her, glad that she was getting rid of her pent up emotions. "It's good to get this out of your system, you know. The stress must have been awful, trying to escape from the smugglers, risking your lives, losing a member of your crew."

"I'd given up hope, Chakotay. I thought my life was over, and then, out of nowhere, you appear, like a knight in shining armor."

"I like that," he whispered, pulling her closer. "I like being the knight who saves the desperate princess from the dungeon and carries her away on my charger."

"That sounds nice," she muttered, her voice thick with sleep as their shared warmth helped her relax. "So does living happily ever after."

"We'll talk about that later, when you're feeling better," he joked, closing his eyes as she grew drowsy and warm in the security of his embrace.

"I can't wait," she sighed, giving him a kiss on the shoulder before she fell fast asleep.

Nearly forty-eight hours passed, and yet Chakotay could see no real improvement in Janeway's condition. Her fever had returned after the first day, and she was having trouble keeping anything on her stomach, whether it was liquid or solid.

"I don't think this antibiotic is working," he told her after she threw up another small meal. "We need to get you to the ship and get a stronger medication that will take care of this infection."

"The storm is too bad, Chakotay."

"I wish I could contact Mike and tell him to get here now."

"They can't beam down into this kind of storm. You know that." She lay back on the pallet, her face as white as a sheet. "I'll be all right."

He nodded in agreement, wanting to encourage her, but he also knew that she was becoming dehydrated again. He'd used all but one of his hydration packets and worried that she would need more than that to survive.

"You could have chosen a planet with a little bit nicer climate, you know."

"Oh, I know." She started to laugh, but was taken by a bout of coughing, her chest rattling with phlegm and leaving her gasping for breath.

"What's that? You're getting congested?" Chakotay grabbed his tricorder and confirmed his suspicions. She was getting steadily worse instead of better. "I have some triox compound to help you breath better."

She nodded and let him apply the hypospray to her neck. "I'm so glad you came, Chakotay, because we need to talk."

"Right now you should rest."

"No, I can't rest until we've talked through the dispute between us, once and for all." Despite her efforts to appear healthy, she felt herself trembling with cold, her teeth chattering.

"Here." Chakotay sat down behind her and pulled her into his lap, cradling her in his arms and wrapping a blanket around them. "What if I told you that, as far as I'm concerned, there is no 'dispute' between us?"

"About the divorce?" she asked, relaxing in the warmth of his body. "About my taking Seven's side?"

"I know you really didn't take either side—thanks to some time and emotional distance. I can see now that you were just providing her with the help she needed—as you always have. I was jealous, and I let that jealousy influence my actions."

Her voice was thick with sleep. "I should have been more careful about your feelings."

"You did nothing wrong. I'm the one who should apologize. I let my pride get in the way of helping you with this reconnaissance mission. I should have been with you; I could have helped you avoid detection or at least get away in one piece." When she didn't reply, he looked down to find that she was fast asleep.

She didn't regain consciousness. Early the next morning, her temperature spiked higher than ever and brought on convulsions that scared Chakotay half to death. Chakotay did all he knew to do, but her condition deteriorated in spite of his best efforts. He was about to take drastic action, trying to decide whether to carry her on his back into the desert or leave her behind and hike out alone to call for help, when there was an odd sound at the cave opening.

"Anybody home?" Mike Ayala shouted as he and a pale, gaunt Tuvok walked into the cave, their protective suits gritty with sand.

"Thank God you're here!" Chakotay said, waving them toward the tent. "She's in bad shape and getting worse."

"The medication isn't working?" Mike wondered as he shook the sand out of his jacket before approaching the campsite.

"It worked at first, but now she's worse than ever," he answered. "We have to get her to the ship."

Tuvok nodded. "Marla feared that the formula she used on me would be too weak for a human, or that the admiral might have contracted a different infection. It would seem she was right to be worried."

Chakotay was not interested in hearing speculations about why Janeway was growing worse, preferring to take action first and find out the causes later. "How can we get her out of here?"

"We brought a litter with us," Mike answered, taking a pack off of his back and pulling out the supplies. "This is basically a sealed hammock that will protect her from the sandstorm. We will carry the hammock suspended between these two long poles. I figured that you and I could manage her weight, even in the wind."

Chakotay said nothing, but began to help him join the poles together as Tuvok unrolled the hammock inside the tent and began to wrap the admiral's body for carrying.

"Tuvok looks like hell," Chakotay whispered, nodding toward the tent. "And I can't believe you came back while the storm was still so strong."

Mike glanced up and shook his head. "That damned Vulcan insisted we come back now. I honestly think he might have taken the ship by force if we hadn't complied."

"Well, you aren't a minute too soon."

tbc


	24. Reconciliation

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 5.5 Reconciliation

**Feb. 21, 2380-Three days later**

**Trebus Transport ship**

Chakotay's quarters were dark and warm, and Kathryn Janeway snuggled happily into the softness of his bed. It was her first morning out of sickbay, the first time in weeks that she felt safe, secure, and healthy, and she owed all of it to the devotion and persistence of her former first officer. The irony of that fact brought a smile to her face.

She had given her first loyalty to Starfleet, an organization that had written her off as dead. Chakotay, on the other hand, had always gotten second best from her, and yet he had not given up, had used his head to find her, and deserved an adequate reward for that dedication.

Her smiled widened at the thought of it.

"Are you finally awake?" Chakotay asked from the bedroom door. He had spent the night on his sofa where he could be handy if she needed something. When she slept so long, he'd decided to stay in the main room and do some work so he could be there when she awakened.

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"Sixteen hours."

"That explains why I have to use the bathroom right now!" she exclaimed as she hopped out of bed and disappeared into the toilet.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard. "I can make an omelet."

"That sounds heavenly." There was a pause, and then a cry of joy. "You have a BATHTUB!"

"The only one on the ship," he chuckled. "Go ahead and take a bath. We have a few hours before we arrive at Trebus, and I can fix your omelet when you're finished."

Kathryn took advantage of the offer and dawdled. She spent a few minutes examining her gaunt body before slipping into a luxurious bubble bath. She would have to be careful to regain the weight properly and not all at once, but that would come with time. For now, the heated water brought on relaxation, and soon she was yawning in spite of her "long winter's nap."

Her eyes drifted closed, and she remembered her last hours on the planet, the dusky cold of the cave floor, the hopelessness that had crushed her spirit, the hunger and pain of her illness. Chakotay's arrival had been the miracle she'd prayed for—and yet she still had trouble accepting the fact that he'd come for her as he did, like a knight in shining armor. "And with a newly healed broken nose," she thought with a smile, remembering his account of his inelegant fall into the cavern.

"If you aren't careful," Chakotay said, his voice bringing her eyes open, "you might fall asleep and drown in there."

She grinned at him as he peeked into the room. "You'd probably save me . . . again."

"I have everything ready for the omelet, when you're ready." He leaned against the door jamb and looked at her, hair caught up in a towel, bubbles covering the water. "I'm not about to cut short the first bath you have had in weeks."

"Brave and smart. I like that."

"Now that we're out of the Badlands, you can call home. Your mother is anxious to hear that you survived, and Starfleet . . . well, they deserve to be chastised for not finding you."

Janeway looked at the bubbles that obscured her body from his view and wondered what he would do if she simply stood up, deciding it would be better to wait until her hip and leg felt better. "He would probably find a towel and toss it to me," she thought.

"In due time," she said. "I want the doctors at Trebus to declare me alive and well before I talk to Mom, not that I don't trust the sickbay program that pulled me through all of this. How is it that your company has such a great sickbay?"

"We decided to invest in a ship that could transport critically ill patients, and asked _Voyager_'s EMH to recommend a sickbay pod and program that would work. I'm thinking we owe him a debt of gratitude for this one, don't you?"

"I may never get finished saying 'thank you,'" she admitted. "The program did very well."

"It's going to save lives out here."

At that moment, her stomach growled.

"I'm thinking it's time to eat," she giggled.

"You dry off." He put a couple of towels within easy reach. "I have an omelet to prepare."

Fifteen minutes later, Janeway sipped coffee as Chakotay finished the first omelet, slipped it onto a plate, and placed it in front of her. "Cheese, mushrooms, and tomatoes—as ordered."

"I might just make do with coffee," she sighed, inhaling the bitter aroma with a dreamy expression on her face. "I'm thinking it has healing properties that have remained untapped for too long."

"Well, drink it slowly then. The medical program says one cup a day."

"What?" Her eyes widened with surprise. "That doctor had way too much to do with the diagnostic program, I'm thinking."

He laughed and started the next omelet, filling her in on the whereabouts of the rest of the crew that had accompanied him to the region and asking about the ones who had remained in Starfleet. They ate slowly, enjoying each other's company. When every bite had been consumed, Janeway felt her eyes drooping.

"I can't believe I'm sleepy again. Didn't I just wake up a few minutes ago?"

"Your body is going to need a lot of rest to fully recover, Kathryn."

"How long before we arrive at Trebus?"

"Let me check." Chakotay contacted the bridge and had a brief conversation with Marla, who was piloting the ship. He reported back, "Six hours, max."

"And the plan when we arrive?"

"You and Tuvok are going to the planetary hospital where a real doctor is going to check you out and decide whether you need any further treatment." He gave her a frown. "How is your hip? Really?"

"It still hurts," she admitted, "but I'm not complaining."

"The ship's program says you fractured your pelvis and that the fracture is completely healed. If you're still in pain, the doctors will probably have to do some further work on it."

"Okay." She yawned. "Are you sure I can't have another cup of coffee?"

"Positive."

She studied his face from across the table, thinking about all of their talks over the last several days, first in the cave and then in the small sickbay. It seemed to her that he had been there every minute, but then she also recalled Marla and Mike tending to her now and then. Even Tuvok had taken a few shifts. But it was Chakotay's voice she listened for, his touch that brought the most comfort.

She thought back to all the other talks they'd had over seven years of exile in the Delta Quadrant and nearly a year afterward. How often had she looked for his face, listened for his voice in the midst of impending disaster?

"I don't think I know anyone in the universe better than I know you," she admitted. "I know you by heart, and yet, I'm not tired of talking to you."

"Amazing, isn't it?" he grinned.

"Amazing," she repeated, taking in his smiling brown eyes. Moments later, she was stifling another yawn.

"I think you need to take a nap, if you hope to stay awake through the doctor's exam." He stood up and held out a hand. "I'll tuck you in, if you like."

"Maybe I should get my own quarters," she said as she stood up, wincing a bit as her hip took her weight. "I feel bad that you had to sleep on the sofa."

"If you had been assigned your own quarters, I would have slept on that sofa, so there's no real difference. Besides, I thought you'd appreciate the bathtub."

"Oh, the bubble bath was heavenly."

Once she had made a few bedtime preparations and had crawled under the covers, he fussed over her, fluffing pillows and smoothing blankets until she caught his wrist and pulled him down onto the mattress. "You must be tired, too."

"I slept fine on the sofa."

"What is the ship's time?"

"A little after midnight."

"So you need sleep, too."

"Once you're settled." He brushed a lock of her hair away from her eyes. "Once I know you're okay."

"Actually, there is something you could do for me."

"Name it."

She slid over and patted the bed. "Hold me?"

He hesitated a moment, but then lay down on top of the covers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"That's better," she sighed, snuggling into his embrace. "We underestimate our need for human contact—or I do."

He wanted to disagree, to remind her of all the times that she had placed a hand on his shoulder or arm, all the moments that she had leaned into him as he'd stood beside her, or had scooted close to him as they reviewed a PADD, but he decided to simply enjoy the closeness of the moment and let those memories pass. The last days had been a time of healing for them, and he was content to let the hurts and pains of the distant past simply fade away.

"A penny for your thoughts," she whispered.

"I'm regretting the fact that you have a sore hip and a doctor's exam in about six hours," he chuckled, nestling his nose in her clean hair.

"I regret it, too," she laughed, pulling away from him so that she could look into his eyes. "But I'm thinking I'm going to need time to really recover. I was thinking I might just stay on Trebus for the near future, if I wouldn't be too much trouble."

He could hardly breathe. "I'd like that."

"I know you so well, in so many ways, and yet there are vast areas of experience that we have yet to share."

"Vast areas that I look forward to sharing, time and again."

"That sounds wonderful, but in the meantime," her head drooped against his chest, "I'm just so tired."

"Sleep, then." He shifted so that she was able to put her hip in a better position. "I'm going to hold you a little while longer."

"Please, do." She relaxed against him with a sigh. "I want to be close to you."

Chakotay waited as she slipped into sleep and then murmured some words in his native language into her hair.

"What was that?" she mumbled, stirring against him. "What did that mean?"

"I said my name," he answered, "in my native language, and then I said, 'Do you see that I love thee? Have I shown you enough of my heart?' These are the opening lines of a love song."

"Will you sing it to me someday?"

"Every day, Kathryn, if you want."

"Every day, then," she agreed, closing her eyes again.

Tbc

A/N: I thought my readers deserved a chapter of fluff after all we've been through in this story. Hope you enjoyed it! :D


	25. Recovery

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 5.6 Recovery

**Feb. 22, 2380—The Next Day**

**Trebus**

"You're on Trebus?" Admiral Hayes was dumbfounded by the news and shocked to see the face that appeared on his view screen. "Everyone thought you were killed in the Badlands."

"The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Kathryn Janeway gave him a wide grin. "I've always wanted to say that."

"But . . . how? Who?" Hayes shook his head as if to clear out the cobwebs before he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I mean, how did you survive? Who found you?"

"It's all in the report I'm transmitting to you in a few minutes, sir. I'm just calling to let you know to expect it and to ask for a few weeks of leave so that I can recover my strength here before traveling back to Earth."

The man blinked, his face ruddy with embarrassment. "Take all the time you need, Kathryn."

"Thank you. Commander Tuvok is being taken to Deep Space 9 and will either rejoin the _Hankeel_ or head back to Earth as soon as he can make arrangements to do so."

"He's being taken there? What happened to the shuttle?"

"I'm afraid the shuttle was a complete loss, sir. Tuvok is a passenger on a transport ship that's owned by the people who found us."

"Amazing." Hayes sat back and shook his head. "I wish I could say that your survival is unprecedented, Kathryn, but you have a way of staying alive when others would perish."

"It isn't all good news, sir." She took a calming breath. "Our pilot, Lieutenant Ryan Grey, died in the line of duty. I've included a letter for his family with my report, and I'd appreciate it if you'd forward it to them."

"Of course." He narrowed her eyes and studied her face. "You look pale and tired, Kathryn. It must have been a close call."

"The escape and crash were harrowing experiences, sir. I'm going to take a few weeks to regain my strength."

"Frankly, Kathryn, seeing you like this . . . I'm mortified that Starfleet gave up on finding you when you were still alive. Obviously, we ended the search too quickly. We shouldn't have underestimated you, especially after what you accomplished with _Voyager_."

She smiled and gave him a sympathetic look. "I think that Starfleet's search was adequate under the circumstances, sir. The important thing is that Starfleet neutralized the smugglers and the threat to the region and that the complaints from Cardassia have been resolved."

"Yes, thanks to your emergency beacon, we had the details we needed. When you get back, we'll take some time to talk about how we can put your special talents to better use. Clearly, keeping you at headquarters is a waste of your abilities."

"That sounds good to me, sir."

"I'll be interested in reading your report. And, Admiral, this news has just made my day. I'm relieved and proud that you managed to survive your run-in with the smugglers."

"Thank you, sir."

"Do I need to let your family know that you're all right?"

"No, I'm afraid I placed a call to my mother before I called you, Admiral." She gave him a sheepish grin. "As far as she's concerned, she outranks you."

He laughed. "I can't say that I disagree with her. The fact that mothers outrank admirals is something we all have to remember."

"I'll send the report in the next day or two and will plan to return to Earth in a few weeks, sir."

"That's fine, Kathryn." He smiled and shook his head again. "If you were a cat, I'd say you have about seven lives left."

"I don't think I have that many lives left, sir, to tell the truth. I'm going to be a little more careful in the future."

"Let me know if you need anything. When you're ready to return to Sector 001, call me. I'll send a vessel to fetch you. In the meantime, get some rest." He smiled and shook his head. "And, again, seeing you alive and well has made my day."

When the connection ended, Kathryn closed her eyes and leaned back in the desk chair, suddenly exhausted by the conversation.

"Are you okay?" Chakotay asked, kneeling beside her. "I know that it's been a long morning."

"Talking to Admiral Hayes was easier than talking to Mom and Phoebe. I probably should have called the admiral first."

"Let's get you into a better position." He offered her his arm and led her to a sofa in the next room. "Is the hip feeling better?"

"It feels better already," she assured him, giving his arm a squeeze. "I'm so glad we came here instead of returning to DS9. Your sister is wonderful, and I'm thrilled to have time to visit with you and the crew members who settled out here."

He sat down beside her on the sofa. "They came out here because they were looking for a job, but I was running away."

"You were in a no-win situation."

"That I handled poorly."

"None of us handled it well, Chakotay. The important thing is that we've all survived. Seven is independent and happily working with the doctor on Jupiter Station, which means that we're free to be together."

"At last." He slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Nothing would make me happier."

"I just wish I could have told you how I feel in person the first time you heard it."

"I needed to hear it when I did," he replied with a chuckle, remembering how shocked he'd been to listen to her confession of love on the tricorder. "It gave me the confidence to take care of you properly without worrying about how you'd react."

"You saved my life, Chakotay. Again." She laid her head on his shoulder.

"It was my pleasure."

"You're willing to come back to Earth with me?"

"Absolutely."

"You realize that Seven will be in the picture."

"I can handle that. She'll only come between us if we let her."

Kathryn nodded and then yawned. "And we won't let her."

"You need some rest. Why not stretch out here and take a nap. I'll check on you later."

"Good idea." She fell over onto the throw pillows and closed her eyes. "Don't be gone long."

"I'll be close enough to hear you if you need me."

He stood at the doorway and watched her as she relaxed into sleep.

The discussion he'd overheard between Kathryn and her mother was something that still had him reeling. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but he lived in a small house, and he figured that she if she knew he was in the next room with the door wide open, able to hear every word, that she would be careful about what he would hear.

_After the initial excitement of their greeting, Gretchen sat staring at her daughter's face in disbelief. "When we got word of your ship's disappearance," Gretchen said, still wiping tears of relief from her eyes as a celebration started among the others who had been waiting with her at the Janeway farm, "everyone said that Chakotay was the person to contact, that he would find you. It just seemed like such a long shot." _

"_It was a long shot," Kathryn daubed at her eyes and nodded. "He's the best, a miracle worker. He knows the Badlands, and he knows me." _

"_They said there was no sign of your ship, nothing to go on, and yet he must have found something. How did he do it?" _

"_He, Mike, and Marla found the barest trace of a sign, Mom, and they thought outside the box, just as we always had to do on _Voyager_. When your back is against the wall, when the only chance to survive is to simply jump without looking and hope for the best, you'll do whatever it takes. Chakotay knew that. He knew I'd take a big gamble. I had to." _

"_But you're not well." Her mother reached toward the screen. "You're so thin, so pale."_

"_I'm getting better every day. No permanent damage, the doctors say." _

"_I want to thank him, in person, Katie. You bring him home with you, and the others, too, because we want to have a big party and thank them in person." _

"_I'll insist that he come along." _

"_And in the meantime, Kathryn, you must remember what I told you about him. He deserves to know the truth, to know how you feel. Don't let this chance to tell him slip away." _

"_He knows, Mom, I've told him. I owe him my life, and not just for this amazing rescue. He was my anchor and my right arm on _Voyager_, but, really, so much more. We are a matched pair, I think. He's wise and brilliant, yet unassuming and gentle. He had the courage to face me when I was at my bossiest, Mom, and you know how hard that can be. He brought our two crews together so quickly that Tuvok wondered if he had ulterior motives." She laughed. "He knows how much I love him, Mom, but I need to start telling him every day, several times a day, until he's sure I mean it." _

_Chakotay had heard every word and was blushing with embarrassment. He decided to check on things in his garden rather than listen any longer. It was just too overwhelming to hear her speak openly about her love for him when it was all so new and precious. _

_After she ended the link, Kathryn came looking for him before she called Starfleet. She found him in his shop, building a table for a friend's kitchen. _

"_You left," she perched on a stool and watched him turn a table leg on the lathe. "I hope I didn't say anything to embarrass you." _

"_Not at all." He stopped the lathe and looked at her. "I just thought you needed some privacy, that's all." _

"_You left when you heard me tell my mother that I love you, right? I don't think I've actually come out and said 'I love you, Chakotay.'" _

"_Unless you count that deathbed confession." _

"_It would stand up in court," she quipped. But when she saw the pained expression on his face, she went to his side and slipped an arm around his waist, looking up into his eyes with a serious expression. "I love you, Chakotay. I have loved you for a long time." _

_He pressed his cheek into her hair. "I always hoped so." _

"_I'm going to tell you that I love you every day for the rest of my life, just to make it up to you." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "While we were on our way here from the Badlands, I was always afraid that Mike and Marla were nearby or I was half asleep from pain medication. I wanted to tell you when we were alone and when you knew I had my wits about me."_

"_You don't have to explain, Kathryn. I love you, too, and I think we should look to the future, and forget about the past. My people have a saying: 'Don't let yesterday use up too much of today.'" He put his arms around her and gave her a kiss, amazed at the way his heart rate sky-rocketed at her touch. _

_When the kiss ended, she sighed and snuggled into his chest, letting him provide her with the balance she needed. "Looking into the immediate future, I think I need to call Starfleet before I collapse." _

"_Sure," he smiled down at her. "We have plenty of time."_

_Together, they walked to the house and called Admiral Hayes. _

Hours after she had curled up on the sofa, Kathryn joined Chakotay in the kitchen, gratefully taking the coffee he offered her and sitting down with him at the table.

"Feel better?" he asked as she took a long drink. "You slept most of the afternoon away."

"I'm not sure I'll ever get enough sleep," she chuckled. "I was thinking about how surprised Admiral Hayes was when my face appeared on the screen."

"It was like seeing someone come back from the dead. I thought he took it well."

"Well, he didn't have a heart attack or tell me that I look like death warmed over."

"You look beautiful, Kathryn."

"I think you might be a little biased." She gave him a wink. "I can't believe he apologized to me about the search. Admirals never apologize."

"Not even an admiral can defend the fact that Starfleet gave up the search so soon."

"They don't realize how reckless I can be when faced with hopeless odds, do they?" She gave him a wink.

He leaned his chair back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "What if Hayes had ordered you to return to headquarters right away?"

"He would have been disappointed," she answered quickly. "I need some time before I return to duty, time to work through some issues, and this is where I need to be to do that." He took her hand and started to speak when their romantic moment was interrupted by Kathryn's rumbling stomach. Chakotay laughed.

"What's for dinner?" she wondered, peering around the kitchen. "I hope I'm not expected to cook."

"Heaven forbid. Liana's having everyone come to the community center for a party, remember? All of the _Voyager_ crew and many of our friends are anxious to see you." He studied her face. "Do you have the stamina for a party?"

"Thanks to the nap, I should be able to last a couple of hours. I like your sister, you know. She has spunk."

"And a big mouth," he grinned. "She likes you, too. We'd better head over to the center or she'll come looking for us."

They were walking through the village, enjoying the late summer breezes, when Kathryn stopped and faced him. "You saved my life. If I remember correctly, that means that my life belongs to you, right?"

"If you're referring to what Tom Paris said after he rescued me on Ocampa, I'll tell you the same thing I told him—wrong tribe." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "The fact is, Kathryn, my life has belonged to you for a long, long time."

"Maybe it would be more accurate to say that we belong to each other." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I think it's about time we admit it, don't you?"

"We almost left it too late."

"Better late than never."

Tbc


	26. Aunt Martha Has the Last Word

Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 6.1 Aunt Martha Has the Last Word

**May 2380—Three months later**

**The Janeway farm in Indiana**

Kathryn Janeway sat on her mother's screened-in porch on a late spring morning, sipping coffee and trying to ignore her Aunt Martha's running commentary. The weather was mild, almost perfect, and the two women lapsed into silence. They watched the birds and squirrels as they visited the bird feeder, drank from the bird bath, and enjoyed the trees and bushes that shaded the yard. Since her near-death experience in the Badlands a couple of months earlier, Kathryn had found herself enjoying the simple joys of living more than ever before. Even Aunt Martha seemed captivated by the frolicking of the wildlife.

A pair of birds flew up from the feeder, their route intricately intertwined as if it were a complex and preplanned dance. They swooped past the porch, and then their flight dipped and spiraled upward until they disappeared into the leaves. Four squirrels darted and dashed around the tree trunks in an impromptu game of tag, the air filled with the sound of their claws on the bark and their constant chatter. In the meantime, a pair of cardinals perched on the tree branches and began to chirp, as if delighted with their surroundings. The sights and sounds brought a sense of satisfaction to Kathryn's heart.

"Isn't it marvelous how the animals interact with each other?" Kathryn said, giving her aunt a brilliant smile. "It's as if they're as conscious of this perfect morning as we are."

"They are as conscious of it," Martha answered with a sniff. "And why wouldn't they be? The air, the earth, the plants and trees, even the sun are all part of them."

Kathryn's grin faded a bit. "I beg your pardon?"

"Darling, when you go into space, don't you take all this with you? Air? Water? Sunlight?"

"Take it with me? Are you talking about the ship's environmental controls?"

"I'm talking about you!" The older woman shook her head and launched into a more detailed explanation. "The world is you, Kathryn! Your body can't exist without it and has to be surrounded by," she gestured at the world outdoors, "well, by the 'environmental controls,' as you call it."

Kathryn made a face, but graciously conceded. "You have a point."

"So, you see, if you need these things to exist, if you must take all this with you wherever you go, then they are part of you." She laughed at her niece's scowl. "It's only normal that you should rejoice in nature, Kathryn, just as these simple animals rejoice in it every day."

"I am rejoicing in it, Aunt Martha. I've never enjoyed being on my home planet more." She paused to watch three squirrels as they carefully hopped toward the bird feeder. One scaled the pole that held the feeder, perched above it, and then lowered himself onto the feeder's closed top, securing his back legs on the edge and hanging down to snatch seeds from the tray, his head hanging upside down as he ate. On the ground, the other two squirrels scavenged the seeds that he dislodged, sitting up to hold the food in their paws as they nibbled and pouncing on whatever fell near them. Kathryn laughed aloud at their antics. "They seem to be working together to get the food, don't they?"

"I've never yet seen a 'squirrel-proof feeder' that works," she agreed with a smile. "I don't understand why someone would want to keep them from eating, anyway—they're so entertaining to watch."

"It all fits together perfectly," Kathryn said quietly as she took in the view. "So harmonious. So perfectly balanced."

"That's the way it is when one finds home, isn't it? When kindred souls are together, what else do they create but contentment and pleasure?"

Kathryn's eyes widened as she considered her aunt's words, and was about to make a comment when the birds' melody gave way to the sound of joyous barking. A young female Labrador retriever came bounding out of the field behind the house and dashed into the yard, scattering the squirrels and forcing the birds to take refuge in the highest branches of the trees.

Kathryn laughed and gave her aunt a wink, "Sometimes, creatures can create chaos, too." She put down her empty mug and went out into the yard, beckoning to the dog and kneeling down to confront her. "Cleo, come here. Can't you see that you're causing trouble in paradise? Hmm?"

The dog sat down obediently and held her head up for some ear scratching, her long pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. She was hot because of her bouncing run from the nearby creek. Her feet and legs were muddy and her short hair was glistening with droplets of water, but she was nearly as joyous in her disorder as the wild animals had been in their harmony.

A shadow fell over them and a familiar voice said, "Cleo is better at excitement than she is at complacency, I think."

"Chakotay." Kathryn stood up and smiled, reaching to slide her arm around his waist. "How was your morning meditation?"

He pulled her close and nuzzled her hair, ignoring the dog that took off with another round of barking, forcing a dawdling squirrel to scurry up a tree and reclaiming her back yard domain until such time as she went into the house for her usual late-morning nap. "You can just imagine how peaceful and quiet it was with Cleo splashing around in the creek, dropping a wet stick in my lap for me to throw, licking my face and ears every chance she got."

"She's just a pup." Kathryn laughed, her eyes shining. "Did you manage to meditate?"

"Not really. It's a beautiful morning, but I didn't really find my 'center' until I saw you scolding Cleo just now."

Her smile widened. "That's an awfully nice thing to say. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get into my good graces."

"I think I 'got into your good graces' earlier this morning, didn't I?" He breathed into her ear, purposefully tickling her so that she would squirm in his arms. "And it was good, all right."

"Chakotay!" She lowered her voice even as she molded her body against his. "What will Aunt Martha think of us carrying on like this in broad daylight?"

He glanced toward the screened porch and then back at her, a wicked grin on his face. "Kathryn, of all the women in your family, I think your Aunt Martha is the one who would most enjoy watching any kind of 'wild life.'"

Gretchen Janeway stepped onto the porch in time to hear her daughter laugh and throw her arms around Chakotay in a fierce hug. She gave her sister-in-law a questioning look. "Are they at it again?"

"You have it wrong, Gretchen. The question is, 'Haven't they come up for air yet?'"

"I'm glad for her. I'd say we should go into the house and give them their privacy, but, they're right out in the open."

"Oh, relax, darling. They'll make it upstairs to Kathryn's bedroom before the neighbors call the police."

"Cleo, no!" Chakotay shouted, interrupting their conversation. "Down! Get down!"

The puppy was jumping on the couple, her large muddy paws leaving long dark smears on their clothing. When Chakotay scolded her, Cleo bounded away to the birdbath and put her front paws on the edge of the bowl to get a quick drink of water.

"They're going to have to get out of those clothes," Martha predicted with a waggle of her eyebrows. "I knew Kathryn got that dog for a good reason."

"Shhhhh!" Gretchen scolded. "They're coming in." She opened the door and ushered the couple onto the porch, clucking her tongue at the damage the dog had done to their clothing. "What a mess. I think you're going to have to teach that dog some manners."

"No kidding," Chakotay replied, swiping at his pants leg. "Kathryn keeps promising that she'll get some sense as she grows older, but I'm wondering if she's going to live that long."

"She's just a goofball, like all pups," Kathryn replied as she examined the muddied sleeve of her jacket. "And, anyway, it's just mud."

"We're leaving for Phoebe's in an hour," Martha replied, reminding them of their lunch date in Indianapolis. "I think you'd better use the time to clean up."

"I need to get my hands on Cleo and wash her feet first," Kathryn said, scouring the backyard for the puppy. "If I don't, she'll just continue to make a mess."

"I'm not going with you to Phoebe's, so leave the puppy to me." Gretchen left the porch and called the dog. "Come on, Cleo. Let's splash in a nice bucket of clean water."

"You two go ahead and get out of those clothes." Martha stood up, shooing the younger people toward the door. "I'll help your mother if she needs it."

"Thanks, Aunt Martha." Kathryn snagged Chakotay's hand and led him toward the door. "Give us a ten minute warning before it's time to leave, okay?"

"Sure, sweetie, as long as that will give you enough time." Kathryn came to a complete stop and turned to give her aunt an exasperated stare. Martha, completely ignoring her niece's discomfort, continued, "I could contact Phoebe and tell her we'll be a half-hour late."

"Don't bother. I'm sure we'll be ready, Aunt Martha." Boiling mad, Kathryn let the door slam behind her, and Martha could hear Chakotay talking to her, trying to get her to laugh the whole thing off. "But, Chakotay, she's impossible!"

"Can't you see that she enjoys watching your temper get the best of you?"

Martha smiled with satisfaction and turned to find her sister-in-law standing at the porch door, Cleo's collar firmly in hand.

"Martha, hand me that towel on the glider so I can dry her feet."

"Of course," Martha replied, fetching the towel and handing it through the door. "Do you need me to hold her for you?"

"No, I think she's out of energy and ready for a nap. At least, I hope so."

Gretchen joined Martha at the patio table while Cleo circled around her dog bed three times and collapsed for a nap. Since the dog had withdrawn from the field of battle, the squirrels and birds resumed their foraging and playfulness, much to the entertainment of their observers.

"Why do you purposefully stir Kathryn up, Martha?" Gretchen asked, at long last. "Is it some kind of game?"

"I stir her up?"

"You know you do! You stir up all of us with your blunt and confrontational remarks."

Martha shook her head. "I prefer to think of my conduct as honest and forthright."

"It may seem that way from your perspective, but to us, you're just causing trouble."

"Fiddlesticks. The Janeways have always been too 'by the book,' and Kathryn has always been too uptight and fastidious for her own good. Life is short, and she needs to relax and enjoy it while she can."

"How else should a Starfleet admiral behave?"

"My point, exactly. She doesn't have anything left to prove. She should tell all those stuffed shirts in the admiralty to take a flying leap. Didn't she just almost lose her life on some God-forsaken mission? Didn't she spend seven of the best years of her life on the other side of the galaxy?" Laughter floated down from the Kathryn's open bedroom window on the second floor, and Martha gave her sister-in-law a knowing look. "That's more like it—and I don't want them to hurry just because of our lunch date, either."

To Gretchen's horror, Martha stepped into the yard and positioned herself under Kathryn's open bedroom window, cupping her hands around her mouth as she shouted, "You two have fun. I'll call and tell Phoebe that we'll be an hour late."

The only response was a very loud closing of the window, which made Martha laugh aloud.

"See what I mean?" Gretchen said as her sister-in-law returned to the porch. "You've embarrassed them."

"I doubt that." She sat down on the glider and picked up her mug of coffee. "They were loud enough to wake the dead this morning."

"Oh, Martha, you're too much."

"I just love it when kindred souls do what nature intended them to do, don't you?" She made a sweeping gesture at the back yard and glanced up at Kathryn's bedroom window. "I love it when kindred souls find contentment and pleasure together—like these squirrels and birds do while performing their dances of joy."

Gretchen sighed, wondering what in the world her sister-in-law was talking about. However, she just clucked her tongue and let the matter drop. She'd learned years earlier that Martha always had to have the last word, whether anyone understood it or not.

And just to make sure she'd summed things up adequately, Martha sighed, "Dances of joy."

The End


End file.
